30 days of Emmett
by 30 Days of Emmett
Summary: 5 weeks of drabbles and one shots from more than 70 authors, all devoted to the big guy with the dimples. All ratings, all pairings, all universes and genres.
1. Intro & Drabble from ElleCC

**Welcome to 30 Days of Emmett! Well, it started as 30 days, it's turned into five weeks, but who's complaining :)**

For the next five weeks (11/14-12/20), we'll be posting one shots or drabbles (up to twice daily) that revolve around our guy, Emmett. Participation was open to everyone, and there were only a few hard and fast rules:

- The story must be about Emmett (either part of a primary pairing, his point of view, or from another character _about _him)

- No cliches - that means dumb jocks and oafs need not apply

- All entries MUST be beta'd

So sit back and enjoy, because you are going to be treated to a veritable buffet of Emmett, and we're pretty sure there will be something for everyone. At the end of each post, the next author will be identified – so make sure you put this on alert, and leave some love for those authors who took the time to share a peek of what fun Emmett can be.

With that said, we're going to give you a double dose - a drabble and a one shot to start. Going forward, you'll have a post in the morning and the evening, so sit back and enjoy!

**[~*~*~]**

**Name: **ElleCC

**Title: **Wood (a Twilight 25 Prompt)

**Rating: **T

**Pairing: **Emmett and Rosalie

I could smell the garage on her seconds before she dropped lithely onto the branch next to me. Her golden hair was fluttering from her run.

"What are you doing?"

"Fly fishing," I cracked before looking back to the sketch I had done during the night.

"A treehouse?"

"The newlyweds have that cottage..."

"I don't think a treehouse is going to be very... durable." I could hear her smirk.

"Let's see if it can at least survive the day, okay?"

She picked up a hammer and tossed it end over end before catching it. "Okay, bubba. How can I help?"

**[~*~*~]**

Next to up, a one shot Hmonster4, posting later today


	2. One Shot from Hmonster4

**Pen name: **Hmonster4

**Rating: **M

**Pairing: **Emmett & Rosalie

**Title**: Blueberries & Copper Wire 2010

**Summary: **Sometimes what you see isn't always what you get. How does one get past a chilly façade or a jaded heart to reveal the potential underneath? AU/AH. Complete rework of the 2009 T rated novella

**A/N:** Thanks to Theheartoflife, Lightstardust, and Accio for tolerating my personal brand of loony (and a cross eyed pbbbt to Accio for putting this idea in my head - it was only supposed to be an update, not a total overhaul). They commented and cheered, the errors are mine.

****** - o o o - **

"Two Stellas and a club soda please."

Emmett didn't make eye contact with the tiny blonde bartender, delivering his order with the detached efficiency that came from one too many nights out. He glanced up at the television nestled in the corner, anywhere so that he could avoid the woman's gaze.

"Who's the poor schmo getting the club soda?" the girl asked. Her voice was just a bit _too_ familiar considering they weren't friends, friends with benefits, or anything else and never will be.

"Me. Work to do later," Emmett said. He dropped a ten dollar bill on the bar and turned away. The routine was the same every time. He would order, she would flirt, and he would tune her out. Last week the girl had gone so far as to try and slip him her phone number. He thought it was clear that her interest wasn't reciprocated, but that message obviously hadn't sunk in.

It wasn't that the girl was unattractive. She was cute in a spunky sort of way, and was probably good in the sack. Emmett could have easily gone there, and they probably would have had a few weeks of fun. But then things would get complicated, because they always did. A little fun would prompt her to ask for a date, or maybe even expect something more. He knew from past experience that when a relationship started with a bang it always went out with a whimper, and that was _long_ after the sex was finished.

So he didn't respond, choosing instead to lean back against the bar and watch the crowd swirl around him. It was busy for this early on a Wednesday night, and people moved about in small packs, all smiles and hands lingering on hips or shoulders and air kisses. This was the human equivalent of a mating dance, the drones hell bent on one thing - go forth, find pollen, and perpetuate the strength of the hive. They danced and wriggled around each other, striving for the attention and edification, oblivious to anything that might be transpiring outside their immediate sphere of awareness.

They moved around Emmett, ignoring the tall man in the faded jeans and blazer because he was obviously was not going to be part of their odd mating game. Emmett knew he stood out in the crowd with his untucked, wrinkled oxford and a few days worth of scruff, and he liked that it set him apart. He wasn't one of these people, nor did he pretend to be. It was only on closer scrutiny that someone would notice the details – the sharp blue-green gaze that missed nothing, the antique Rolex on his wrist (an heirloom passed down from grandfather to father to him), or the MIT class ring on his right hand. In a number of ways, Emmett knew he was the personification of everything these people aspired to, either for themselves or in the match they were desperate to find, but he had no desire to put it out there because, honestly, none of it really mattered. He was much more interested in what lie underneath, the actual substance as opposed to the trappings. That is why he could so easily turn down the bartender. Easy sex was easy; it was what came after that he found complicated.

So instead of mingling, Emmett maintained his usual perch at the bar, watching people talk at and over each other. This was his role week after week, the loyal wingman standing watch over this bizarre mating dance while his cousin, Jasper, pursued the girl.

Truth be told, Emmett had no interest in the dating buffet. He'd been there before, and had pretty much tried everything there was being served up. No, at this point, he had zero interest in pursuing or being pursued. He was content to stand back every week and watch the bizarre social interactions that swirled around him. It gave him an excuse to keep an eye on the one person who seemed so out of place in it all.

_Rosalie Hale_. The golden it-girl, who held herself back, watching with clear disdain as men tripped over themselves to charm her down off her virtual throne. Every week, Emmett watched as the nameless faces tired to be _the one_ to break through her defenses. It was the sexual equivalent of big game hunting, Rosalie's name the trophy that would be mounted on the wall and bragged over for years to come.

Truth be told, he couldn't fault the men who tried and failed. It was impossible to look at Rosalie Hale and not think about tapping that. She was this surreal mashup of beautiful and fragile and arrogant and pure sex, a combination no red-blooded American male would be able to resist. Easily 5'8 without her ever present high heels, the woman radiated the cool confidence of a Hitchcock blonde. Two weeks ago, she'd come walking into the bar wearing a pink dress and oversized sunglasses, her hair pulled back, looking just like Grace Kelly in _To Catch a Thief_. Serene, gorgeous, and completely capable of cutting a man down to size with one single look.

It would have been easy to see her that way, a spoiled rich girl accustomed to getting what she wanted, for she did little to debunk the outward impression. Emmett _might_ have actually bought into it, had it not been for that damn pink dress. Everywhere he looked, she was there, wrapped in the color a little girl would wear. It made her even more visible in the sea of dark colors, and Emmett found he couldn't look away.

That was when the mask slipped, and Rosalie, or _Grace_, as he'd sarcastically called her in his mind, became Gracie. It was also the exact moment that Emmett went from casual observer to active participant in the mad race to capture her attention. Had he not been watching, he would have never caught her with her guard down. Emmett could have walked away, maybe indulging in a gratuitous daydream before letting go. He would've eventually come up with a reason to stop meeting Jasper week after week and gone on his way.

No harm, no foul.

But whatever he _might_ have done flew right out the window the minute he caught her staring off in space. People swirled around her, but Rosalie was alone, her expression one of abject sadness and loneliness. In a sea of people, all wanting to either be her or with her, she was lost, and not a single person appeared to care. It cut straight through him, exposing Emmett's greatest strength and his biggest flaw - his uncontrollable need to make things better.

Even if it was for a woman he didn't even know.

And so, instead of making up an excuse to stop coming week after week, Emmett continued to act as Jasper's wingman, always watching Rosalie Hale in the hopes that he might see that flicker again. Maybe it would lead to an opening, a way for him to break through where others had failed. The need was irrational, but he couldn't fight it anymore than he could change the rotation of the earth or stop the sun from setting in the West.

It was simply who he was.

Tonight, she sat at her usual table, dressed entirely in blue - a slim skirt and little button up sweater that reminded Emmett of the robin's eggs he'd find broken on the ground as a child. She was nestled in a large, round booth, her chin propped on her hand, listening to her friends talk. One of them must have posed a question, to which Rosalie nodded her response. It knocked a strand of hair loose, which fell into her eyes. She stuck out her lower lip, huffing to blow the lock away. The strand dropped back down into her eyes, but she didn't push it away.

"Yo, Em." Jasper slapped him on the shoulder as he crossed in front of his cousin, blocking Emmett's line of sight. "Thanks for getting the first round."

"No prob, Slim." Emmett paused to take a sip of his club soda before continuing. "What's new in your world?"

"Little of this, little of that," Jasper said. He surveyed the room, nodding hello to a few acquaintances with the relaxed manner of a man comfortable in his own skin. While they were both extroverts, Jasper had the enviable skill of being able to read and respond to people in a way that always put them at ease, a talent Emmett had never quite been able to replicate. He was a master at getting past the façade and finding the real person lurking beneath. Growing up together, they'd been inseparable, Jasper the leader and Emmett the problem solver. As adults, they'd turned those traits into viable, even successful professions, and yet they always came back together, the two little boys who would rather dam up a creek than be cooped up indoors with their nose in a book.

"Listen, man, I need to ask you a favor." Jasper tipped his head to the side and scratched absently at the base of his neck. For someone who didn't know him well, the gesture would mean nothing, a simple action that probably wouldn't even register. But Emmett wasn't just anyone, and he recognized the tick for what it was. Jasper wanted something.

"No blind dates, Slim. You can call for the infantry all you want. I'm not going to take another bullet for the team."

"Whoa, dude, not like that," Jasper said hastily, his hands held up in reassurance. "And I swear I didn't know that chick would go all _Fatal Attraction_ on you. Come on, I'm trying to score some brownie points here…"

Jasper glanced across the room to where Alice Brandon sat, her head inclined in Rosalie's direction. Tiny but mighty, she'd managed to topple his cousin with a few well placed comments, packing a punch that still had him down for the count months later. Leave it to Jasper to find the girl of his dreams when he wasn't even looking.

"Fuck me, you are whipped," Emmett said with an exasperated sigh. "What do you want me to do, and what's it worth to you?"

Jasper's gaze never left the table where Alice and Rosalie sat huddled together. Emmett found himself looking in that direction too. There she was, surrounded by a group of women chattering about who knows what, with that same faraway look on her face. She reminded him of a trapped animal, her glazed apathy the only outward manifestation of any emotional distress.

As if feeling the weight of his gaze, Rosalie shook her head and blew that same lock of hair out her eyes, then plastered on a smile. She leaned toward Alice, whispering something, her mouth hidden behind her hand.

She was putting on a show, Emmett realized. The question was, for whom? And why?

"…and this guy has really been fucking with her. Things got a little out of hand last night, but she's okay, at least physically. Anyway, Alice says this isn't the first time it's happened, so I thought you could maybe you could teach her a thing or two. You know - how to throw and block punches, that sort of thing."

Emmett shifted his attention back to Jasper, who was waiting for an answer. He'd heard enough to realize this had nothing to do with blind dates or other romantic entanglements, and fished his wallet, an old, battered brown no name piece of leather he'd purchased in college.

"Yeah, I can do that." He extracted a business card from behind a few dollar bills and dropped it on the bar. "Pen?" he demanded, snapping his fingers together impatiently.

Jasper passed him the worn silver fountain pen, and Emmett bit the tip, pulling the cap off so he could scribble the name of a gym, along with a date and time on the back of the card. "I do this, and I get the first month of Seahawks home games this year."

"Fine with me, they're gonna suck," Jasper said. He extended his hand, palm up in a silent request for his pen. "At least you'll get there on time."

It was an old routine, one well synchronized after years of use.

"Yeah, well, you're the writer. I was always late for dinner. I guess the right thing was passed down to the right grandkid, eh?"

Emmett slid the card across the bar to Jasper and recapped the pen. He twirled it between his long fingers, admiring the weight and balance of his grandfather's beloved old fountain pen. But before he could slip it inside his jacket, Jasper snatched it away.

"Nice try, you big oaf."

"Yeah well, you owe me, asshole. Tomorrow, 6:30," Emmett said. "Tell your girl tennis shoes and workout clothes, cause someone in the family is finally going to get her all sweaty."

"Dick," Jasper said, popping Emmett lightly in shoulder.

Emmett retaliated, smacking Jasper upside the head. "I'm out of here, you skinny bitch. I've got some work to do. You good to get home?"

Jasper's body was already turning back to where Alice sat, his mind drifting back to her. "Yeah, I'm covered," he said absently. "Good luck tomorrow. I owe you big."

"You always do, Slim. You always do."

The crowds parted for Emmett, men and women alike clearing a path, some watching in admiration as he moved past. Ever since the growth spurt freshman year added a foot to his already impressive frame, Emmett had captured the attention of others. At first it was solely based on size, but over time, the attention evolved into something more. Emmett carried himself with an easy grace, and his long stride and relaxed posture translating into a self assured swagger which made other people pay attention and often admire.

Across the bar, Rosalie Hale watched him exit with a Mona Lisa smile on her face.

"Hey, are you okay?" Alice dropped a gentle elbow in Rosalie's ribs, reclaiming her attention. They'd both been on edge for the last twenty four hours, Rosalie because of what happened, Alice with worry for her friend. She hadn't wanted to come out tonight at all, but Alice had insisted, believing it was better to be out with a group than home alone.

"Yeah, just tired," Rosalie answered absently. It was true. She _was_ tired, both mentally and physically. Her body ached, but she was too worn down and helpless to do anything about it. Every morning, she put on her makeup, adding layer after layer like a mask before a performance. While other people noticed the exterior, the breeding, the polish, and the good looks, Rosalie knew they didn't see _her_, nor did they care what she felt.

Maybe that's why the tall man at the bar with the wavy dark hair intrigued her so much. At first, it was his attitude, the devil-may-care posture and the casual clothes that made him stand out – a wild, roguish upstart in a throng of over bred cultivation. The man, who she later learned was called Emmett, held himself apart, comfortable being the individual in a sea of competition. Others picked up on that, and gravitated to him based on the allure of that subtle strength. From her perch, Rosalie watched as women approached him, batting their eyelashes in hopes of being the one to finally catch him. It didn't surprise her that he always said no, for he simply seemed like 'that' type of man – not interested in easy or instant gratification. He watched the bar shift around him with too much interest and awareness to give into the easy lay. No, what fascinated Rosalie was how kind the man was when he did say no. He owed nothing to these women, and yet he always had time for a smile, and when the women did turn away, they were clearly disappointed, but never hurt.

"All set," Jasper said, slipping into the banquette next to Alice. Rosalie turned away, not wanting to watch the way his arm slipped around Alice's shoulders or how she naturally leaned into that small space created just for her. She fought off the jealousy, trying desperately to be happy for her friend, who truly deserved happiness. But even with those reminders, the selfish, niggling thoughts of 'why can't it be me,' gnawed at her insides, making her nauseous and cold in addition to bone tired.

"No saying no," Alice said, refusing to let the subject die. "Especially after the stunt last night. We knew you wouldn't do anything, so we did it for you."

Jasper pushed an ivory business card across the table, the printed side face down. In a heavy, masculine hand, someone had written the name of the Seattle Athletic Club along with a time.

"Tomorrow, six," Jasper said. "No excuses. You need this help, Ro."

She placed an index finger on the card and slid it slowly across the table. When it reached the edge, she gently pinched the heavy paper between her index finger and thumb and flipped it over. The slow, extended process allowed her to bite her tongue, the urge to correct Jasper acrid on her tongue. _You are Rosalie_, her mother had coached her as a child_. Your name is too beautiful to be bastardized into a nickname_.

A long string of names was embossed on the card in dark type, and off set just below it, another name, Emmett McCarty, followed by a string of letters she didn't understand.

"I don't need a lawyer, thank you very much," Rosalie said dismissively. "I told you, Royce was embarrassed by the attention, he won't be back."

Jasper laughed and pulled Alice in a little bit closer. "Em's not a lawyer, he's an architect, and my baby cousin, in age at least. He also has two very small sisters who can both knock me on my ass-"

"Which isn't saying much," Alice interrupted sweetly.

"Thanks, babe, I'll remember that," Jasper said, his gaze still leveled on Rosalie. "Emmett'll show you everything you need to know. Royce might not be back, but if you're ever in that situation again, you'll know what to do."

Rosalie studied the card, a strange mixture of sensations churning in her chest, like flying and falling and gasping all at once. She wanted to take control of her life, and she knew this was the right way to do it. But wanting to take control was one thing, being taught how to do so was an entirely different matter. Emmett McCarty was everything she was not, and Rosalie didn't know if she could handle being in close proximity to someone who would view her with nothing but disdain.

Jasper, ever the perceptive one, caught her hesitation and refused to let it knock her off course. He dropped his head, forcing his way into Rosalie's line of sight. "Em's good people, I promise. I've known the big oaf all my life, and he's _never_ let me down. He'll take great care of you."

She stared at the card for a moment longer before slipping it into her purse. All of her life, people had been telling her what to do, how to act, who to be. She'd been formed, constrained, controlled. She'd never been taken care of.

"If he has your endorsement, Jasper, he's good enough for me," Rosalie said.

_More like the other way around_, should have been her answer.

********** - o o o - **

The next evening, at six on the dot, Rosalie waited in a training studio at the Seattle Athletic Club. The room stank of stale sweat and disinfectant, the two smells mixing together and making the other worse.

The Athletic Club, as it was known locally, was nothing new to Rosalie. This was where her father had played squash when she was little, and her brothers too, once they were old enough. Seattle's elite came here to tone their bodies and be seen taking classes with some of the best trainers and pros in the area. While she was familiar with the club, Rosalie had never actually made it past the lobby before. She'd been raised by a mother who believed that athletics were not appropriate for young ladies, and had been directed toward music and the arts instead.

If she was being honest, Rosalie would have to admit being here gave her a bit of a rush. She was completely out of her element, clad in nothing more than a loose pair of yoga pants and a tank top, something her mother would have been shocked to see. The simple rebellion, being somewhere that had been so verboten growing up, made her fingers tingle, and gave her the confidence to square her shoulders and hold her chin up just a little bit higher. This was something she was doing on her own, and not because it was expected or demanded of her.

It was with that confidence that she stood with her hands behind her back, grasping the barre for moral and literal support as she waited. The room was quiet, no music, just the ticking of a cheap round clock that hung over the door, the hands mocking her as they spun in endless cycles.

At 6:10, Rosalie's shoulders sagged a bit, and her back pressed against the cool mirrored wall.

By 6:20, her index finger was tapping impatiently against the barre, frustration sapping the rebellious high that had propelled her to this point.

By 6:25, Rosalie's resolve had completely crumbled, leaving her out of sorts and irritable. This was a mistake, she told herself. Violence would perpetuate violence, and this was no way to deal with her issues.

She didn't belong here.

It was as she bent to retrieve her bag that a t-shirt clad Emmett came rushing into the room, a similar duffle bag draped over his shoulder, as well as heavy duty back pack. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of black framed sunglasses, which tempered the boyish good looks which had captured Rose's attention in the first place.

"I'm so sorry," Emmett said, dropping his bags on the floor. His cheeks were flushed, his dark hair, just a shade too long to be stylish, tangled and windswept. "I had a call run over, and then someone snagged me before I could get out of the office, and…"

He was talking so fast, dropping his gear and stuffing his glasses in his bag, that he didn't make eye contact with Rosalie until his apology was half out. When he did finally turn to face her, Emmett ground to a halt, his mouth still open to speak. That inaction pushed Rosalie over the edge, her frustration clashing with the unbidden rush of attraction, the unwanted zing that came from the one man who looked right through her. The collision of those two emotions, extreme and confusing, forced Rosalie to react the only way she knew how.

"Save me the excuses," she said sharply. The words had their desired effect. Emmett clamped his mouth closed. As he did, his jaw flexed, the small twitching muscle in his cheek betraying the way he ground his teeth together.

"I don't know how you could need self defense lessons with a tongue like that," he said quietly.

His words, like hers, had their intended effect. A wave of guilt slammed down on Rosalie, knocking the wind out of her. She wished there was a way to pull back the bitchy comment. It was very rare that anyone outside of her family would put her in her place, but if anyone tried, they would invariably rock her back on her heels. Rosalie could talk a good game, but in reality, she'd been raised to be the obedient daughter, and would back down in the face of conflict. People might consider her strong and willful, but in truth, it was only because they let her get away with it. Deep down, Rosalie Hale was terrified of words. They were the weapon against which she had no defense.

"I'm sorry," she said, taking a deep, gulping breath of air. This was Jasper's cousin, and he was doing her a favor. He wasn't getting anything out of this, nor did he expect anything from her.

_Well, other than to maybe be polite, that is. _

Slowly, Rosalie extended her right hand, willing herself to cool down. "We've never met properly. I'm Rosalie. Jasper swears by you, and promised I'd be in good hands, so thank you."

She waited, focusing on the slight indentation in his chin, praying that her hand didn't shake and betray just how nervous she was. It was a trick someone taught her in college – if you don't want to make eye contact, focus on a spot just below to give the illusion. It was safer for her; that way she could avoid the curious stares, or in this case, the inevitable glaze of disappointment.

Emmett sucked his upper lip between his teeth, releasing it slowly along with a sigh.

"Let's try this again. Hi. I'm Emmett and I'm sorry I was late." He took her hand, his long fingers wrapping gently around her palm.

Slowly, Rosalie raised her eyes. Emmett stared down at her, his expression guarded expression no doubt matching hers. _Aren't we a great pair_, she thought ruefully.

"When Jasper asked me to do this, I thought you were Alice, I didn't realize…"

"Oh," she said. It came out as more of a squeak than a word.

"No, no, I'm sorry, I just…" he sighed again, releasing her hand. "Gimme a sec, 'kay?"

Emmett took a step back and closed his eyes, breathing deeply in through his nose. As he did, his chest expanded, his shoulders lifting and squaring to bring him to his full height. When his lungs reached their capacity, he held the breath for a second before exhaling slowly through his mouth. Then he opened his eyes and smiled, genuinely this time. It allowed a dimple to form in his left cheek, a lovely little divot shaped like a comma that threw the expression a bit off balance and made him feel oddly real.

"Slim said you need to learn a few self defense moves." She frowned, and Emmett mirrored her, his brows dipping together in confusion before he understood. "Slim is Jasper. I gave most people nicknames, it's a quirk," he said, plowing forward without taking a breath. "If it's any reassurance, I have two little sisters, who I call itty and bitty, by the way. I taught them how to take me down. I figured if they can take me, they can take anyone."

Emmett swung his arms in front of his body, a motion Rosalie assumed was to loosen up his muscles. It pulled the t-shirt tight across his shoulders, and there was a slight crackle. She didn't know if it was the shirt seam straining under the pressure or his shoulder, cracking from exertion.

"I can show you how to break free if someone grabs you, how to throw someone, and make sure you know how to throw a punch the right way," he smiled at her, that same little divot forming in his left cheek. "Between that and your sharp tongue, you'll be golden."

Rosalie opened her mouth, drawing in a sharp breath, but Emmett held up a hand to stop her.

"Sorry, cheap shot." His eyes were wide, and Rosalie found herself resisting the urge to laugh. Up close, there was something very childlike and innocent in his facial expressions, which did not fit this huge man with his easy motions and confident nature, which did not make her think of innocence at all.

"If, after all this, I can take you down," she said, her voice softer. "Then I think that would be an accomplishment."

"Trust me," Emmett said as he stepped back, his arms still scissoring back and forth across his chest, "You learn how to toss all two hundred and thirty five pounds of me, you'll be able to handle anything."

He rolled his head to the side, and a loud crack filled the room.

"So what do you think you can take me, Gracie?" he paused for just a beat, then backpedaled, "Sorry, Rosalie. Bad habit."

"It's okay," she said, smiling back at him. "Some people just like nicknames."

Emmett ducked his head for a moment, his eyes hidden from sight as his dark hair fell down across his brow. The dimple was still there, though, a little check mark of approval that gave her the confidence to speak up.

"You don't have to call me Rosalie, if you don't want to. It's just that everyone always has."

"Maybe everyone doesn't see you the way I do," Emmett said. He glanced up at her, his eyes so wide that she could see flecks of gold around his irises. Most men, when making eye contact with her, would only hold her gaze for a moment before either looking away completely, or dropping their eyes further south. Emmett didn't, and it was just enough for Rosalie to understand why those women in the bar had been so drawn to him. He didn't look at her, or through her, or past her.

He saw her.

"Maybe they don't," she said, her smile back at him genuine.

********** - o o o - **

"Come on, Gracie, hit me harder! I hardly felt that," Emmett chided her. This was their third workout, and he'd been moving her slowly through the basics - how to break free when held from behind, the best places to immobilize someone, even how to head-butt without hurting herself.

They'd had a little fun with that one, laughing when she accidentally caught Emmett in the eyebrow. He'd teased, her, promising to tell everyone a girl kicked his ass. The smile he received in return had been more than payment for the laugh.

Rosalie'd been a quick study, following Emmett's lead, which surprised him. He'd expected more attitude or even a little bit of whining, but after their first blow up, Rosalie Hale had channeled her impressive bark into more productive venues, including giving him one hell of a shiner.

Tonight, they were working on the basics of a punch. Emmett had Rosalie lined up in front of a heavy bag, and was focused on pushing her feet wider and turning her hips so that she could approach the bag the proper way. Neither of them commented on how she allowed him to move her around, silently giving him her trust. Emmett was careful to keep his movements quick and efficient, withdrawing as soon as he had her in place. The last thing he wanted her to think was that he was one of _those_ guys.

You have to put your body behind it," he said, standing directly behind her. "You're doing everything with your arm. That isn't going to hurt anyone but you. It's like this-" He bent his arm parallel to hers and wrapped his hand around her fist. "Let me move, you just follow."

He pulled Rosalie back, forcing her to adjust to his stance. Once he was confident she was stable, Emmett shot his arm forward, forcing his body against hers so that Rosalie had to adjust her weight. The heavy bag swung backward violently as they hit it.

She gasped in delight, but Emmett didn't leave her any time to celebrate.

"Push forward with your body, driving your fist forward from your shoulder," he said, throwing another punch. This time she followed his motion without having to be pushed, adjusting her weight easily. The bag swung backward again. "There you go. The power comes from your core, not your arm."

Emmett didn't realize until Rosalie moved again that he'd wrapped his other arm around her waist, his hand pressed flat against her stomach to keep her on balance. She didn't need the support, if anything it was doing her a disservice as she tried to learn on her own. Emmett released her and quickly turned away, flustered and frustrated by his inability to keep his head in the game.

Being close to her like was a slow torture. After the shock of it being her instead of Alice had worn off, Emmett had gone with it, expecting her mystique to die with regular interaction. If anything, the allure had grown stronger, and he was no closer to solving the riddle of Rosalie Hale than he was breaking free of his attraction to her. The one line he couldn't cross, at least not while helping her like this.

Using a water break as a cover, Emmett moved to the far side of the room, putting as much space as possible between them. The need for distance became more common as Rosalie's confidence grew, leaving him increasingly on edge and agitated.

"So tell me about the guy screwing with you," he said, picking the one topic that would force distance between them. Rosalie had plunked down on the mat in the middle of the room, her head bowed as she tightened the laces on one of her pristine running shoes. "Who was he?"

"No one," she said, just a little too fast to be believable. "Well, no one that mattered."

"You sure about that?"

"Yes," she said, her chin jutting out to reinforce her point. "My family thought he mattered, and I listened, even though I thought he was a jerk. In the end, guess what? I was right, they were wrong, but they'll never admit to that."

"Kinda harsh, aren't you?" Emmett took another sip of water. "Family's supposed to love unconditionally and all that."

"Maybe yours," Rosalie said, extending her hand. Emmett screwed the top back on and tossed it in her direction. She bobbled it a few times before gaining control. "Thank you."

He waited quietly while she drank, wondering how she'd gotten to get to this point. Sure, she was beautiful, but when she let herself be, Rosalie was smart and funny and wickedly sarcastic too. Who had beaten the life out of her, and made her want to hide that spark? Emmett couldn't get enough of it, and he hated knowing someone had tried to quash it.

Rosalie swiped at her mouth and then twisted the cap back on bottle. Instead of tossing it back to Emmett, she stood and walked across the room, dropping it in his lap as she proceeded to the barre.

"My family had everything planned out for me," she said, staring at herself in the mirror. With one fluid motion, she extended her leg to the side, so that the toe of her shoe could rest on the barre like a ballerina. In a long, graceful motion, she lifted her arms over her head, and then slowly dropped her torso slowly, dipping low enough to touch her toes. "They sent me to the best schools, introduced me to the right people…they all but picked my job, and of course, they expect me to date the right men. No," she paused, turning her head to the side. She was parallel with her leg, her check resting against her knee. There was that same world weary expression on full display, only this time, she was letting it through. "They _insist_ I marry the right man. That's why I'm here. Their idea of the right man likes to rough up women to make him feel bigger."

Rosalie straightened up slowly, her arms rising graceful over her head, She released a long, slow breath and then dropped her hand to her forehead. "When I was little, my mom used to tell me not to frown, that I'd get wrinkles from it. Who tells a kid that?" She tipped her head back, and Emmett could see the muscles in her throat working. He wondered if she was trying not to cry. "And as an adult, I use that pretty face and charm she's _so_ proud of to talk rich people into donating their money to help needy kids. I let them make me into a pretty little package with a nice satin bow, when that's the last thing I want to be."

Overhead, the fluorescent lights hummed, a low, static hiss that filled the space between the ticks of the cheap round clock that hung on the wall. Its hands constantly sweeping closer and closer to the time when this would all be over, and they would both go back to their respective lives.

"Come on, pretty boy," she said, turning her back to him. Emmett could still see her reflection in profile, a knot forming in his chest as Rosalie swiped at her eyes. "You're supposed to teach me how to kick a little ass. You can't very well do that when you're sitting on yours."

He wanted to tease her, to play up the fact that she called him pretty, and make her laugh like he knew she could. But it wasn't the right time or place. Rosalie Hale was wrestling with her own demons, and for some strange reason, she trusted Emmett enough to take them on in his presence, even if it was just to acknowledge they existed. Somehow, not saying anything at all seemed like the best way to respect the truth she'd just shared.

Later that night, after they'd said their goodbyes, Emmett sat in his condo, blueprints spread out across the kitchen counter. Mixed in amongst the sheaves of paper were historic photos of an abandoned hospital, an old Georgian Revival building with a beautiful doomed roof. The building, closed in the 80's, had fallen into disrepair as scavengers and vagrants gutted the once glorious space. Copper wire, fixtures, and anything else of value had been ripped out, leaving nothing but chaos and destruction. Even in the middle of all that ruin, there was a stately beauty, something that cried out for preservation, for rescue.

In a way, the building wasn't all that different from Rosalie Hale. She was devastatingly beautiful, but someone had done a number to her insides. The foundation and façade were strong but the guts had been ripped out, making her doubt everything that she _could_ be. Instead of looking inside to find her natural strength, she looked outward for edification. She was surrounded by people who used her to get what they wanted, or molded her to be what they needed. No wonder she came across so cold. The façade wasn't real, it was simply a defense mechanism, a way to keep herself emotionally detached while holding others at arm's length. It was purely for protection.

Deep down, Emmett doubted that was how she wanted to live. Those early glimpses at the bar, the glazed, absent stare, had allowed him to see a different side of Rosalie Hale. She was chaffing, trying to break free of the restraints placed on her by others. It was clear to him that Rosalie wanted to find her place in the world, to figure out who she was and what she could be. She simply didn't know how.

It frustrated Emmett, who prided himself on his ability to solve problems for others. As the oldest child of four, and the second born of more than thirty cousins, he'd spent his life clearing the way for others. It was in his nature to fix things, to find the cause and help find the resolution whatever issue might be troubling others.

Sure, he was teaching her how to physically defend and stand up for herself, which would help boost her self esteem, but in the end, it would be her decisions and actions that would make the difference. She'd reach a point where she would stand on her own, and when she did have that confidence, she would most likely move on.

Leaving Emmett behind, helpless to anything but watch her go.

********** - o o o - **

Rosalie gently pressed on the stem of her wine glass, exerting just enough pressure to rotate it slowly in front of her. Around her buzzed conversations about meaningless things: dates, clothes, who was fighting with whom, or what to do this weekend. They were the things she'd thrived on, the things she was brought up to know, but for once, Rosalie didn't care.

She'd been here for an hour and a half, and with each passing minute, she'd grown more detached, her eyes focused on that spot at the bar where _he_ usually stood.

It was empty now.

In the four weeks that Emmett had been giving her self defense lessons, he'd only come to happy hour once. It had been the Wednesday immediately following their first session, and the bar had been abnormally crowded and loud. Rosalie had wanted to shake everyone off, to go talk to him or make him laugh, but every time she'd gotten close, someone had stepped in her way, wanting something that she was incapable of refusing – her attention.

When she'd finally broken free from the crowd, she'd found Emmett engaged in conversation with a pretty blonde girl, who'd pressed her hand possessively against his arm. When Emmett didn't pull away, Rosalie quickly turned back to her friends, shocked and dismayed by that shot fire up her spine.

It wasn't until she had reclaimed her seat at the banquette that she realized what it was.

Jealousy. It burnt through her body, worse than any embarrassment or humiliation ever suffered at the hands of her parents, because it had been completely innocent. There had been no commitment made to her, no promise of anything beyond maybe a simple friendship. Emmett owed her nothing. That didn't quench the fire that had threatened to consume her alive.

"Why are you so quiet?"

Rosalie glanced up from her wine. Alice stared down at her, eyes wide and too perceptive. Of all the people she knew, Alice Brandon was the most genuine and honest friend she'd ever known, and Rosalie believed that Alice could be someone that she could trust, she just needed to take the first step.

"Just a lot on my mind," she said. "Where's your boyfriend?"

"He had to work late," Alice said, scooting closer. "Where's your crush?"

"I wish I - " Rosalie started. She wished she what? She didn't have a crush? She knew where he was? That Was with him? All of the above? "- knew what you were talking about."

Her denial did nothing to distract Alice, who was like a bloodhound on a scent.

"Look, Rosalie, I know we haven't known each other all that long, but I do think of you as a friend. And with friends, well, I don't believe in bullshitting." Alice drummed her finger on the table for a few beats, "What the hell makes you happy?"

"I'm sorry, I don't understand?"

Alice waved her hand around the room, taking in the mob of bodies, all shifting jockeying for position. "We come here every week, and there are people all over you, yet you hardly ever smile. You go on dates, but they never turn into anything serious. You have dinner with your family on Sunday nights, but you never talk about them. What brings you joy? What makes you laugh?"

Rosalie frowned, considering her friend's question. What did make her laugh? Old slapstick movies were a given, but what else? She searched her memory, sure she could find other, better examples. In the end all she found were _things_.

"There's a blueberry bush out behind the center," Rosalie said, her voice wistful and far away. "It grows wild, and right now it's loaded down with berries. A few of the kids went out yesterday and picked them clean. I went into the kitchen to get some water after lunch, and there were bowls and buckets everywhere, loaded down with thousands of berries."

She hesitated, recalling the cluster of boys sitting on the floor by the refrigerator, their faces lit up, lips stained a dark, purple-blue.

"Someone bought cans of whipped cream, and the kids were all sprawled out on the floor, doing blueberry whippets. They'd pop a handful of berries in their mouth and then tip their heads back and shoot the cream directly in their mouths like a chaser. They were laughing and talking like normal kids. When you think about the lives they've lead, is nothing short of amazing."

Rosalie pressed her hand to her mouth, covering a smile. "They talked me into doing one. It was the best dessert I've ever had."

Alice nodded, her grey eyes full of wisdom and understanding. There was no recrimination, no laughter or disdain. "What are your blueberries, Rosalie?" she asked quietly.

It wasn't a rhetorical question.

On the drive home, Rosalie thought more about her odd conversation with Alice. When had she last been truly happy? The moments that did come to mind were shallow, reflected glories. The way her mother went on over her picture in the paper with so and so, or the way her father raved about the way her job at the foundation was great PR for the bank. It was never about her, and she'd never done a thing about it. She'd been on autopilot, letting other people make decisions, and take her where they wanted to go.

Everyone but…him.

_I'm going to tell everyone a girl kicked my ass._ He'd been so earnest when he'd said it, no malice, no angle. Emmett probably had too, and wouldn't have cared if people laughed at him, because he'd been proud of her. Not for what she did for him, but what she'd done for herself.

Rosalie slapped a hand over her mouth, holding back a sound that was half laugh, half gasp.

There was only one place where she'd every truly been herself, and had trusted that the person on the receiving end was honest and true. He didn't use the weaknesses she willingly let him see, and displayed glimpses of his own insecurity to show here that it would be alright. It'd been there all along, she'd simply hadn't known how to stop and see it. Reaching across the seat, Rosalie dug in her bag, fishing around until she found her cell phone. His number was in there, she'd programmed in weeks ago, but had been too scared to call.

"'lo?" He was disoriented, voice raspy with sleep. Rosalie smiled, Emmett, his hair disheveled and matted on one side, a pillow creasing on his cheek.

"I waited for you," Rosalie said, not identifying herself. "I waited and you didn't show up."

There was a noise on the other end of the phone, things shifting in the background as Emmett adjusted something unseen. "Gracie? But it's…"

"It's Wednesday, and you weren't there. That's not cool Emmett. I have a surprise for you, and it won't keep."

There was a protracted silence, which ate at Rosalie's confidence. Maybe this wasn't the right thing. What if he didn't feel the same way? Maybe it would be better to hang up and –

"You can drop it off," Emmett said, his voice clearer. He rattled off an address that was just a few miles from her office. "I'm just here working, so it's no big deal."

He hadn't been working, he'd been asleep, but Rosalie loved that he didn't let her know that. It nudged her forward, the small bloom of hope in her chest enough to keep her moving.

"I'll be there in ten," she said, disconnecting before Emmett could say anything more.

The old elaborate mansion was lit up as she pulled up in front; the upstairs windows casting a warm and inviting glow across the lawn. Rosalie tried to be quiet, punching in her key code and unlocking the entry to the foundation offices. The residents would all be upstairs, doing their homework or getting ready for bed. Fifteen elementary and junior high school aged kids lived in this building, all undergoing extensive therapy as they dealt with the personal demons forced on them by adults. Rosalie worked here as a development officer, convincing her parent's affluent friends to dig deep in their wallets and give to a good cause. It was the type of job she'd been raised for, and one she thrived at. It wasn't the glitzy benefits and other social events peppering her calendar that made the job so rewarding. It was the interactions with the kids, and the knowledge that, when they mainstreamed back into society, she had helped them get there. To the people here, _she _mattered. Not who she was related to or what she looked like, but what she actually _did. _Just like those blueberry bushes, Rosalie realized that she could bring a small ration of joy and hope to others. Like a child with their first bite of chocolate, she was greedy, hungry for more, and too driven by need to fear the repercussions of chasing it down.

A single light had been left on in the kitchen, a collection of bowls and pots stacked upside down next to the sink dry. Inside the industrial sized refrigerator, Rosalie found what she was looking for - dozens of gallon sized Ziploc bags filled to the brim with dark blueberries. She grabbed the closest one and hurried back to her car, scared and excited and anxious to see what came next.

A few miles away, Emmett waited impatiently. He'd dozed off on the couch, and had been startled awake by Rosalie's call. He had no clue what to expect, and tried not to glance at the clock, knowing the time would make him consider potential ulterior motives, ones he didn't want to consider at this time of the night.

When he opened the door to her, Rosalie thrust a huge bag full of blueberries in his hand, her face alight like he'd never seen it before. She was triumphant, smiling she'd won the lottery or knew the answers to all of life's problems. Before Emmett could ask her _what gives_, she grabbed his free hand and tugged him to her, careful not to crush her fragile gift.

He'd been on the receiving end of unexpected kisses before, but never anything like this. Most had happened in a bar, when a woman, typically propelled by liquid courage, grabbed his tie or swooped in out of nowhere, all lips and slobber and probing tongue. She would grab at his arm or his ass, and try her best to clean his tonsils. Emmett knew how to handle situations like that.

This? Well, _this _was entirely different.

When Rosalie kissed him, he didn't taste any alcohol, and even if he had, he probably wouldn't have turned her away. Emmett had spent the last four weeks watching Rosalie Hale coming out of her shell, his appreciation and interest growing stronger every day. He'd wanted to do this for as long as he could recall, even before she'd let down her guard and allowed him in. When she had finally opened up, he'd forced those desired back, convincing himself that it was a recipe for disaster, and would undermine everything she needed at the moment. He'd wanted to help her, and in doing so, he'd assumed that anything he might have wanted should be pushed to the side.

He'd obviously been wrong.

There were no words, no conversation, just hands and mouths moving of their own accord. Rosalie raked her fingers through his hair, her nails scratching against his scalp, and it shattered the weak dam of resolve Emmett had built. He dropped the bag of blueberries on the floor and grabbed hold of her hips. She didn't resist, her other arm snaking around his shoulders, helping him lift her up to press against the door. Any thought of being noble or being the good guy was gone. He wanted to touch her, to show her, to prove that there was something here that words couldn't express.

Deep in the back of his mind, a warning bell was going off, reminding him that this was wrong, but Emmett didn't listen. He was too caught up, raising his arms so Rosalie could tug his shirt off. Her fingers, so cold from holding the bag of blueberries, slid down his back to slip under the waistband of his basketball shorts.

"You go there, and I'm not going to be able to stop," Emmett warned, his voice low and gruff. He didn't want to stop; he needed this, needed her. It didn't matter where. Against the door, on the couch, in his bed. Four weeks of watching, of wanting, of waiting, and she was finally here. He couldn't go back if he tried.

"Don't then," she said, her teeth rough against the soft skin of his shoulder. "Stop holding back. I already kicked your ass once, didn't I?"

He knew this was probably wrong, that Rosalie was fragile and had her own issues to confront. It broke his own self imposed rules of rushing straight into bed, for they had no foundation to build from, but at this point, he would willingly follow her to hell if it bought them more time.

Somehow, he managed to get them back to his bedroom, bumping into the coffee table and flipping over a dining room chair in his haste to get there. They left behind a path of destruction, but neither carried, their focus fixed on the destination and not the bottle of spilt beer or abandoned bag of blueberries discarded on the floor.

His bedroom was a mess, the sheets rumpled, comforter slipping off onto the floor, but Rosalie didn't seem to notice. The minute he dropped her on the bed, she was striping off her shirt, her hips raised to help Emmett peel the jeans off her incredibly long legs. As soon as her hands were free, she was tugging at his shorts again, her mouth incredibly hot against his chest. He fumbled hastily for the nightstand, hoping that somewhere in the recesses of the drawer was something that would allow them to keep going, but deep down he knew it didn't matter. If she told him she didn't care, he wouldn't either, consequences be damned.

Ultimately, it didn't matter. There was lone foil packet wedged in the back corner of the drawer, and they both fumbled with it, desperate actions filling the space left open by the absence of words. The minute it was on, Rosalie's arms were wrapped tight around him, her fingers digging into his lower back as her legs tangled with his. She was strong and demanding, her hips rising up to meet his so fast and so furious that Emmett wasn't sure who initiated what.

With one arm still wrapped tightly around his body and a hand clamped in his hair, Rosalie held tight to Emmett as they moved together. Whether intentionally or accidental, she'd pressed her cheek against his jaw, her lips just a few inches from his ear so Emmett could hear every sound she made. There were a few half-muttered words, garbled and hard to understand. She might have sworn once or twice, Emmett wasn't really sure, and wasn't particularly capable of paying attention either. Maybe he was the one swearing, which could have been entirely likely too. Thinking, listening, it had all flown out the door when she stepped in, replaced by instinct and action.

When their breathing slowed, Rosalie loosened her grip to rub the base of his neck. Then she kissed him where his shoulder met his neck. They stayed like that for a few minutes, both quiet. Emmett didn't want to move or talk, afraid of ending whatever this was. He wished he had Jasper's ability to read people, and to say the right thing, because he was desperate not to screw this up now.

"That was nice," Rosalie said, her breath tickling his neck. "Although I'm glad you thought of something, because I…"

Emmett shifted his weight, moving gently onto his side. She followed him, refusing, or so he hoped, to give up skin to skin contact.

"I want to stay here, but I can't," she said. "I have to work tomorrow, and I can't very well go in looking freshly fucked."

A small sound, which he hoped came off as a laugh, rumbled through Emmett's chest. It was probably the best way to describe what they'd done, but it also seemed wrong coming from her. He just couldn't say why.

Rosalie pressed her cheek against his chest, and Emmett closed his eyes, trying to relax. Soon, the first hooks of sleep begin to slip into him, tugging him down into another world.

"Stay here 'til I'm out," he mumbled, kissing the top of her head. "That way I can pretend you're still here, even when you're not."

Minutes later, the world around him faded, and Emmett was fast asleep.

********** - o o o - **

Home alone in her apartment, Rosalie tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep. Her bed was too big, her mind to active, and her body alive. The muscles in her back and legs ached in a delicious, hedonistic sort of way that made her want to call in sick and then rush back to Emmett's condo, arms loaded down with food. She'd make him stay in bed all day and feed him blueberries, and they would maintain this high.

It was something she'd never felt before.

Unfortunately, real life had its own demands, which meant there would be no camping out in Emmett's massive bed, his glorious dark curls slipping through her fingers as he made her body sing. Instead, she used him as motivation, flying through her morning preparations and throwing clothes into her workout bag. They had their usual session at the Athletic Club tonight, and afterwards she'd tell him everything. How he gave her the confidence to see what was missing, and that she couldn't stand the thought of facing the world without him there to cheer her on. Maybe they would get coffee or go for a walk, something completely different. There would be no bars, no clubs, no well known restaurants. Just something quiet where they could sit down and talk and be who they really were.

Her morning was packed full of meetings, and then there was a donor lunch at one of the private clubs downtown, keeping her on the move. Rosalie was aware of how people were looking at her, and deep down she had to wonder just exactly how she appeared to them today. Did they notice her smile and think she looked happy? Were they impressed by her new found poise? The old Rosalie would have cared about their scrutiny and perception, but not now. She moved through her day, letting them wonder what she was up to, or speculate about who gave her the inevitable glow. For the first time in as long as she could recall, Rosalie didn't care what anyone thought…well, anyone what him, and it she couldn't wait to tell Emmett that.

Throughout the day, little thoughts or ideas came to her. Snippets about her life or questions she wanted to ask him. She wanted to know everything about Emmett, and even went as far as jotting down notes in a small black leather notebook she carried with her. Tonight, she would ask, and he would laugh, and pull her into his lap, answering all her questions and kissing her until she couldn't breathe.

"What are you smiling about, Princess?"

Rosalie dropped her pen, her hand flattening over the page to protect it from prying eyes. "Hi, Daddy," she fumbled, her heart racing. Her father stood in the doorway, his all too aware gaze sweeping over her, missing nothing. "Just thinking of something."

"Or someone, more likely," Jack Hale said, moving easily across Rosalie's small office. He sat down in one of the guest chairs and scooped a small paper weight off her desk. It was a small square with an angel embedded in the top left corner, a thank you gift from one of the children who'd passed through this very house. She wanted to tell him to put it down, to stop touching her things, but her father would simply shoot and continue on like she'd never spoken. "I had dinner with Roy King last night. I heard that things aren't going well. You aren't giving his son a hard time are you?"

Her father raised his eyebrows, but didn't stop long enough for Rosalie to respond.

"Rosalie, you know the Kings are a good family. I've worked with Royce Junior before. He's a smart kid with a lot of potential-"

"Daddy-"

"Who's apparently taking it pretty hard that you won't call him back." Jack Hale was not going to stop, plowing right over his daughter to get to his point. "Your mother and I are going to meet the Kings for drinks tonight, and I think you should join us. It'll give you a chance to get to know the Kings and see how wonderful they are."

"Daddy, please, I already have plans-"

"Reschedule them," Jack said dismissively. He placed the paper weight back on her desk, upside down. He didn't understand the importance of the angel being on top. "I'm sure it's nothing important."

Rosalie stared at the paperweight, her cheeks burning. Her father didn't care that he had put the paperweight back, upside down, just like he didn't care that he was turning his daughter's plans upside down. It didn't matter to him what she wanted or who she was interested in. In Jack Hale's mind, anything outside his sphere of influence or preference didn't matter. Even his own daughter.

"No," she said. It wasn't stated rudely, or in a harsh manner, but that didn't seem to matter. Jack Hale's eyebrows dipped down into a dangerous scowl, reminding Rosalie of petulant child. Instead of being scared, like she might have been once upon a time, Rosalie had to fight the urge to laugh it her father's clear attempt at manipulation. She was a grown woman, capable of making her own decisions. She didn't need his approval, nor did she have to give in to his preference. "I'm sorry, Daddy. I have other plans. And for the record, Royce King, Jr. is a spoiled brat and a drunk who treats women like garbage."

"Princess…" Jack said. He readjusted his features, trying to create the air of a parent whose only concern was his daughter's happiness. It didn't mollify Rosalie at all. "Whatever misunderstanding you two had-"

"Pushing me up against a wall is no misunderstanding, Daddy. Squeezing my arm so hard enough to leave fingerprint sized bruises isn't either. I kneed that sonofabitch in the nuts -" Rosalie fought the urge to laugh when her father's eyebrows shot up again, wondering if her mother nagged him about the risk of wrinkles too. "And I'd do it again. No one should be treated that way."

She stood, pushing her chair back away from her desk, trying to remember how in the hell this man had ever intimidated her. For years, she'd given into their brow beating and coercion, and for once, she was not going to back down.

"I have plans tonight. You'll have to pass on my apologies to the Kings. I happen to have something much better to do."

Rosalie clasped her hands in front of her body, which hummed with adrenaline. She prayed her body didn't betray her, and that her father couldn't see how badly her hands shook, or the damp sheen of perspiration on her forehead.

"I'm disappointed," Jack Hale finally said. He stood, brushing a piece of non-existent lint off his suit jacket. "I'm sure your mother will have something to say about this."

"She always does, Daddy. She always does."

Rosalie stayed, locked in place, until well after he was gone. When she couldn't take it any longer, she sat down on the edge of her chair, and hid her face in her hands, waiting for tears or panic to set in, but they didn't. Instead, she pressed the heel of her palm pressed hard against her mouth and let out a long scream of frustration. Then another. Only after she had regained control did she allow herself to go to the bathroom and splash water on her face. It would wash away most of her makeup, but she didn't care. It felt good to shake off the rules.

When she returned to her office, she was shocked to see that it was 6:45. Emmett would be at the gym, waiting for her. She was late.

********** - o o o - **

When Emmett woke up, he was alone. His bed smelled like Rosalie and sex, and his condo in oddly perfect order. Nothing on the floor, no knocked over beer bottle or chair turned on its side. Were it not for the smells in his bed and a huge bag of blueberries tucked safely in the refrigerator, Emmett would have thought it were all one hell of a dream.

Without a way to ground himself, Emmett had to spend the day in his head, wondering what the hell last night was. A college roommate had once said 'if it calls late and is coming from a bar, it's a booty call.' Was that what he'd been, a way to itch a scratch, and if so, what would happen next?

As the day drug by, Emmett became increasingly irritable. By five, he couldn't take it anymore, shutting down his laptop and heading for the Athletic Club, trying to figure out how in the hell he was going to bring up last night, and trying not to worry about what came next.

Each session, for four weeks, he'd watched Rosalie's confidence grow. It amazed him, how something as simple as standing up to others could give a person the strength to face other demons, but with Rosalie, he'd watched it firsthand.

The changes had been very slow and very small, but they were undeniable. She'd allowed him to call her Gracie, a stupid slip early on. She smiled, laughed, and had started pushing back a bit. With each tentative step, her confidence grew, and Emmett watched her take flight with both admiration and sadness. He knew that she needed to come into her own, but he also knew that, when she did, Rosalie might not need (or want) him anymore.

Piece by piece, she'd slowly been putting herself back together, restoring the wiring and the pipes others had stripped away. When she was done, the world would be hers. She deserved that, and Emmett knew it was wrong of him to stand in the way.

But then she'd shown up last night, bringing him the ridiculous bag of blueberries and breaking down the laughable excuse he called reserve, seducing him with her laughter and demand for more, a demand he'd willingly given into, and would again if given the chance.

Full of energy, he hit the treadmill, alternating between a run and a sprint, using the exertion to try and force the images of Rosalie from his mind. Her cheeks flushed, tugging his hair to direct him where she wanted. That was his Gracie, confident and strong, not a timid, lost soul.

"Fuck," he said, his breath coming in labored gasps. She wasn't his, and he needed to stop thinking that way. Everyone else treated her like a possession, if he started doing it, he wouldn't be any better. He continued to run, and with each mile, his mood sank, pulling him down further into a dark, turbulent storm of emotions, worrying about what might come.

At six on the nose, he was in the small working room, waiting for her. He paced, he spared with the heavy bag, doing everything he could to pass the time.

As the minutes ticked by, Emmett's agitation continued to grow. He knew that this would all come to an end someday, but each time she'd shown up, he'd been able to push it off for one more day.

"You did what you promised to do, jackass," he said, taking another shot at the heavy bag. "She can take care of herself. She doesn't need you to fight your battles."

Just because it was true didn't' mean he wanted to believe it. This was his fault. He'd wanted to save her, he just hadn't expected to actually care.

At 6:30 he gave up, returning to the locker room to change. He would go back to the office and lose himself in work, shutting out any thoughts of Rosalie Hale or what he might have hoped would come out of tonight. He was still sweaty from his run, but Emmett didn't care. His dress shirt was already rumpled, and there wouldn't be anyone there to see him anyway. He rolled the sleeves up and shoved his tie in his bag, for once not caring if it was ruined rubbing up against his running shoes.

The small studio was still empty, the heavy bag hanging motionless in the corner. Rosalie had learned how to throw a punch here, to defend herself both physically and mentally. That was all he'd committed to, Emmett reminded himself, nothing more.

He dropped his bag and walked slowly toward the heavy bag, loss and resignation pressing down on him like a lead weight. Once close enough, Emmett's fist shot out, crashing into the bag and sending it swinging violently backwards into the wall. He slammed his bare knuckles into the hard leather over and over again, his class ring cutting into tender skin and drawing blood, but that didn't stop Emmett. He continued to pound on the bag, the pain that rocketed through his arms and shoulders doing nothing to stem the sense of lose that threatened to consume him.

"Someone told me once that the power comes from your core. You swing with your arm, you're just going to hurt yourseIf."

Emmett's hands flew up, catching the heavy bag as it swung wildly back in his direction. It slammed into his body, rocking him back three steps, forcing Emmett to realize just how out of control his punches had been. His hands ached, his shoulder screamed in protest. It hadn't made anything better.

"I didn't think you were coming," he said. In the mirror, he watched Rosalie lean against the door frame, her arms crossing over her chest. She wore that same pink sundress, the one that had set this whole thing in motion, and her cheeks were flushed.

Emmett wanted to tell her she was beautiful, but what would it accomplish? She'd heard it from others, and she considered the words meaningless. What could he say to the woman who had lived her life expecting compliments to come with conditions and requests to be thinly veiled demands?

"Why are you wearing a suit?' she asked. When Emmett didn't answer, she pushed off the doorframe walking across the mat on tip toe so she wouldn't poke holes in the synthetic fabric. "I don't think I've ever seen you dressed professionally before. It's nice."

Emmett continued to hold onto the heavy bag, at a loss for what to say. There was something softer about her, an openness in her expression that was new. Rosalie tiptoed awkwardly across the room, too stubborn to take off her heels, staring directly into his eyes.

She never looked away.

When she was close enough, she wrapped her fingers gently around Emmett's wrist, prying his arm free. Gingerly, she elevated his hand, examining his knuckles, which were red and chaffed from his assault on the heavy bag. The skin around his class ring was swollen and bloody, and there was a chunk of skin gouged out of his pinky finger.

"You hurt yourself," she said.

"I'm fine."

"No you're not. You're bleeding."

"Gracie, I'm fine."

Emmett cringed, cursing himself. She wasn't Gracie, she was Rose. She wasn't his.

She ran her fingers lightly over the skin above his knuckles, her touch tentative, twisting a knife in Emmett's chest. He didn't want this to be over, but he didn't know how to ask Rosalie for that. He didn't know what she wanted from him, and he had no clue how to ask something from her, when that's all everyone else did was _want_.

Maybe that was the difference. Other people wanted, but Emmett needed. In all his life, there had only been want, up until now.

"You need to get some ice on this," she said, pressing gently at what should have been an indentation between his first and second knuckle. It hurt like hell, and would probably turn to bruises tomorrow. "It's swelling pretty badly."

"I'll put some ice on it when I get back to the office," Emmett said, pulling his hand free.

Rosalie looked up sharply, the bloom of color fading from her cheeks. "You're leaving?"

"You weren't here. There wasn't a whole lot of reason to stay."

It was meant as a simple statement. She hadn't shown up on time. Instead, it came out sounding like an accusation. In a way, it probably was.

"It's okay, Rosalie. I don't expect anything," he said quickly. It was a half truth, but Emmett wasn't sure what else to say. He couldn't ambush her. That wouldn't make him any different from any of the others.

He tried to step back, turning away from her, but Rosalie would have none of it, matching every step he took with one of her own. At some point, she must have realized Emmett wasn't going to stop and she grabbed the back of his shirt, jerking so hard he was surprised a button didn't pop free.

"Stop running away from me," she demanded, pulling him backward. "Don't make me chase you, 'cause running in heels is a bitch."

Emmett turned around, ready to tell her that he wasn't the one running away, but the words died in his throat. She threw her free arm around his shoulder, her fingers slipping back into the hair at the nape of his neck, just like she had the night before. Her face wedged into the soft spot at the base of his neck, her words muffled.

"You're my blueberries," she said quietly. "Don't leave. I just got here."

It took Emmett a few seconds to understand what she meant. He struggled, trying to think of something that would make sense, but in the end, he could only think of one thing. It probably made about as much sense as her saying he was a blueberry, but it was all he had.

"I had a prof in college who was a big eco nut," Emmett said, his check resting against the side of Rosalie's head. "He challenged us to generate electricity without traditional batteries or any sort of manufactured power. I ended up mashing up a ton of blueberries to create a solar cell. I wired it up to a flashlight bulb using copper wire. Managed to make it run for a few minutes. It cost a fortune, and my fingers were blue for a week, but I did it."

What Emmett didn't say was that the only reason the whole experiment worked was because of the copper wire, and the natural photosynthesis that occurred during the process. Blueberries could generate natural energy all day, but without the conductive power of the copper wire, the experiment never would've worked.

Maybe that was what had with them, he thought. This was all some weird fluke of nature, which could only happen when Rosalie was ready. A few months ago, there would have been no copper wire to conduct the electricity that only he could generate. It was no guarantee of what would come, but it was the nudge that Emmett needed.

"So what are you doing tonight?" he asked, hoping he didn't sound as ridiculous as he felt.

"Going home with you," Rosalie pulled back to look up at him, holding his gaze. Weeks ago she couldn't do that. "Do you know what a whippet is?"

********** - o o o - **

Emmett hadn't known what a whippet was, so they stopped on the way to buy a can of pressurized whipped cream. Rosalie sat on the counter in his kitchen, popping blueberries in his mouth and following it with pressurized shots of cream. She told him about her father, and about her conversation with Alice. In turn, he told her about the hospital renovation, and how a beautiful old building was being lovingly restored, step by step.

They laughed and they talked. They kissed with mouthfuls of whipped cream, and both called work to say they wouldn't be in the next day.

They gave in to want and need, and accepted the fact that the two, when mixed together, created the sort of electricity they were helpless to resist. They made love, or at least something close to it in Rosalie's mind, on Emmett's couch, and then they talked some more. They watched movies together, an old baseball hat of Emmett's clamped securely on Rosalie's head.

And they were happy.

**The beginning**

* * *

**Next up - Monday morning and a one shots from Echoingsilence**


	3. One Shot from Echoingsilence

**Pen name: **Echoingsilence

**Rating: **M

**Pairing: **Emmett & Rosalie

**Title**: An Angel Avenged

**Summary: **Loveable, loyal, affable, jovial... What could make the Emmett we know and love show his dark side? M for dark themes and non-explicit discussion of past sexual assault. Not by Emmett.

**AN: **This is a Fandom Gives Back piece for hmonster4, who generously bought me and asked for a Darkmett. I admit that I struggled a little with that, since I, like most people, see him as very friendly and easygoing, and I didn't want to take that away from him here. Hopefully, I succeeded, and she likes the end result.

Many thanks to ladyrip and karentwilighted for the betaing, and to nerac, Melissa228, jennde, lightstardusting, and theheartoflife1 for prereading and encouragement.

* * *

Apples.

I remembered liking them as a kid, afternoons spent in Ol' Man Brennan's orchard with my brothers, playing hide and seek in the trees and sinking our teeth into the sun-warmed fruit. After my angel rescued me, it was one of the memories I wrote down so that I'd never forget. Carlisle, my father, my friend, my maker, had suggested it because mortal recollections fade, and though I was happy with what I'd become, it was good to still know where I'd come from.

Now, apples scented the air around me - not mouthwatering like I was sure they used to be, but a nice enough smell for the summer air. At least they didn't smell _bad_, as some human foods did to me now. Milk, or peanut butter.

I'd enjoyed it here, but it was time to move on. For the first time, I would be part of the decision on where to go next - the next town or city we'd live in for a few years but leave before anyone noticed we weren't aging.

Not that most of them would have noticed _me_, specifically...not here, where I'd only recently started to mix with humans. It had only been two years since the day Carlisle had found me in the woods, bloody and broken and nearly dead from an..._unfortunate _encounter with a Grizzly bear and had carried me back to this house. The three days of agony that had followed were something I wished I could forget, but the time since wasn't anything I could complain about, even if I'd wanted to. I'd awoken from the pain as a vampire, indestructible and with strength that made my human self seem like a puny kid.

No bear had gotten the best of me since, and I'd discovered they made a pretty tasty snack.

And I'd had a family - not the parents who had raised me, or the many siblings I was used to, but still, company. Carlisle and his wife, Esme, did all that they could to make my new life easier, and I even had a brother, though Edward was different from the rowdy crowd I'd grown up with. While what Carlisle referred to as my _newborn period _subsided, I kept close to home, away from the temptation of human blood, learning about the three of them - and their lives before I'd entered so unexpectedly. I learned why they hunted animals rather than humans, of the loneliness that had led Carlisle to save Edward when my brother was dying of influenza, of the tragedies that had led Esme to try to take her own life - and of the strange, magnetic pull of mating that had meant my father couldn't let her go when he found her, pulse weakened but alive.

I wondered idly if I'd ever experience that, and how it might happen, but I was happy with my life as it was. In any case, Carlisle had been alone for hundreds of years before finding Esme, and it was Edward's turn next.

And there were more important things to think about. We'd been tossing suggestions back and forth for days, each potential location having its own unique appeal. Edward liked wide open spaces where he could run and be alone with his thoughts - a luxury for a vampire gifted with the talent of mind-reading, though it didn't take a genius to see that he saw it as little more than a curse. Esme's primary concern was with a place she could fashion into a home for all of us, and Carlisle needed to be near a hospital so that he could do the work that gave him purpose.

We all needed a place with an abundance of cloudy days, and me? I'd never been further north than Lexington. Everywhere was an adventure, just waiting to be discovered.

**0o0o0o0o0o**

We decided on Rochester. Northern climates were, generally speaking, better for our kind, though the mountains of Appalachia had given us a very suitable home. Sunlight didn't harm us, not the way humans thought it did, but one glimpse of a vampire standing in the sun would reveal him or her to be undeniably different.

It made me laugh, the thought of what my brothers would say if they found out that I sparkle. Glimmer like the darting fishes we used to catch in the creek.

New York was a good choice for all of us. Though Rochester was a good-sized city, there was plenty of space outside it for us to hunt, and for Edward to find the quiet he craved. The hospital there was, by a fortunate coincidence, looking for a new doctor and could find no fault with Carlisle's qualifications, and Esme was excited to decorate the house she'd found.

Now that my bloodlust was under control, I could venture out amongst more people than I'd encountered in the small town near where we'd lived before, but not be overwhelmed like I'd probably be in a larger, busier place.

Most of our possessions had been sent ahead, so it was just the four of us, carrying a few bags, that stepped out of our home for the last time, the sun setting over the roads that would take us north. Beside me, Edward smiled slightly. "Excited, I see," he said dryly.

I shrugged. "First time I've really gotten to go somewhere new."

Carlisle stood between the two cars, smiling. "You want to drive, Emmett?"

I grinned widely. "Really?"

"Of course," he said, tossing the keys to me. I caught them without looking.

"Race you." Edward held up his own keys in challenge.

I pretended to consider, knowing he'd see my answer anyway. "You're on."

"Care to make it interesting?"

"Nothing dangerous, boys," Esme warned. Edward and I both rolled our eyes.

"Not interesting if I know I'll win," I said, laughing. "But winner gets his choice of room."

Edward sighed. "Fine, but you know, everywhere begins to look the same after a while. Same walls, same people, same tiresome thoughts, same boredom."

"Please," I scoffed. "You're, what, fifteen years older than I am, in our terms?"

He smiled again. "And very little of that has been remotely thrilling." His amber eyes - like mine had become after they'd spent the first year a glowing crimson - darkened slightly, and I didn't need to be able to read his mind to know what he was thinking. It hadn't been long after my change that he'd told me about the few years he'd spent away from Carlisle and Esme, using his gift to hunt down the human scum - rapists, murderers, men who beat their wives - who, in his opinion, had deserved to die.

Even now, I wasn't sure how I felt about that. I knew Carlisle, though he'd welcomed Edward back with open arms, hadn't liked what Edward had done, and would be happier if I disapproved, too.

But I wasn't sure that I did. Not in a general sense, anyway. Even in the small community I'd grown up in, I had seen the effects of such crimes, and remembered them through a blurry haze of time and fading human recollections. Edward had had his reasons, and far be it for me to judge him.

Edward's face tightened; there was a part of him that wasn't proud of his actions. On the few occasions we'd discussed it, I'd made the point that pride wasn't the issue.

Sometimes a man just had to do what was necessary.

**0o0o0o0o0o**

Six easy months passed in New York. Months during which I was occasionally challenged by temptation, but more often experienced the rush of freedom. Edward and I spent long hours hiking and hunting, speaking little and returning home to Esme in muddy, torn clothing from wrestling matches that shook the trees. Carlisle was gone a lot of the time, too, helping the patients who came under his care.

Vampires, I had learned in my earliest days, forget nothing. Our minds simply file away everything we see, hear, and learn, ready to give us the knowledge the next time we need it. I had a feeling, though, that even if I'd been human, I'd remember forever the expression on his face when I went to see him one night, half a year after we'd moved to Rochester.

There was no real purpose to the visit; Edward was going through another of his moody periods, preferring to shut himself in his room with his phonograph. Esme was busy drawing and I hadn't wanted to disturb her, and I was bored. Still relishing the luxury that I _could _just take a run into populated areas without much worry, I'd left our home and headed for the hospital.

He was not in his office, but finding him was not difficult. The building was quiet at that hour, patients sleeping, nurses and doctors talking in hushed voices so as not to wake them. Carlisle's tone was as familiar to me as my own, and I found him on the second floor, speaking to a nurse. She took her leave as I entered the ward, Carlisle looking up when his senses registered my scent.

"Emmett?" he asked, too softly and quickly for a human to hear. "Is everything all right?"

"Sure," I said agreeably. "Just thought I'd drop in. Are _you _okay?" Tiredness wasn't possible for us, but he seemed...weary.

He sighed. "Rough night." His eyes flicked to a bed in the corner, a movement much too subtle for a human to have noticed.

But I wasn't human. Not anymore. And I followed his glance.

She was an _angel._ Bruised and broken and sleeping the heavy slumber of someone drugged, but an angel nonetheless. Golden hair spilled from a bandage around her head, the livid marks on her face couldn't completely hide her creamy skin, and though bloody and split, her lips were full and perfect.

Lips that should be smiling. Laughing.

Fury rose within me, an anger without face or name at whoever or whatever had done that to her. Suddenly, I wasn't the walking dead of vampire legend - every part of me felt alive in a way I hadn't since I was mortal.

I was surprised my heart hadn't started to beat again. I wanted to go to her, comfort her, protect her.

"What happened?" I asked, my jaw clenched, my feet trying to will me to move to her bedside.

"A tragedy," said Carlisle simply. "She was brought in several hours ago, and it took a great effort to save her. We don't even know her name. But I couldn't let her... Emmett?" He broke off as he studied me.

"_Tell me what happened,_" I growled. He looked taken aback, but something in my face must have brooked no argument. I certainly had no intention of leaving here without the answers I so suddenly needed.

He nodded once. "Not here," he said, taking me by the arm and pulling me unwillingly away from _her._ Leading me to his office, he closed the door softly behind us. I leaned on the chair at his desk, waiting. The leather creaked under my hands.

"She was...assaulted," he said. "Very brutally and by five men - though I am unable to tell my fellow doctors that, as I have no means of explaining how I know. Even they have guessed, however, from the extent of her injuries, that she had several attackers."

He had smelled them on her, as I had. The memories of those scents burned in my nostrils. The leather tore, just a little, but we both ignored the sound. "And her injuries are?" I challenged.

"Extensive. She has a great deal of painful healing to endure, and that is only referring to the physical aspect. Even then, parts of her will never recover. It is highly unlikely that she will ever bear children."

Wood splintered, the chair falling into pieces at my feet. Instantly, Carlisle's arms were around me, restraining and trying to comfort me at the same time. But there could be no comfort now. Not when my angel, my goddess lay upstairs, battered and violated. Not when the monsters - I refused to call them _men, _real men would never do something like this - were free. Maybe sleeping undisturbed, maybe still awake and pleased about what they'd done.

Even if they regretted it, it was too late.

"Emmett, what is going on?" Carlisle asked, softly but firmly.

"I'm not sure. I... She's my..." I couldn't finish the thought, the weight of the word too heavy on my tongue, but he nodded.

"I see," he whispered. "I see."

I left him, running at a human pace under the dark sky until I reached the outskirts of town and could put on a burst of speed. It felt good to run, my body releasing some of the tension it had been holding in. But it wasn't enough. The deer I took down fell with far more violence than I usually showed my food - true, I had a habit of playing with them before the final death blow, but only in my uncontrolled newborn days had I left the carcasses maimed and mangled on the ground.

It still wasn't enough.

With a roar, I struck at the nearest tree, watching it topple several others like dominoes.

I wanted to kill. Make the monsters who had hurt my angel pay for what they'd done. This wasn't bloodlust. This was pure, murderous rage coupled with something I couldn't quite describe. A tenderness. I wanted her to know she would never be in danger from them again.

**0o0o0o0o0o**

For two days, I lurked in the shadows of the hospital, unable to leave, waiting for her to wake up. What Carlisle had told Esme and Edward to explain my absence, or his colleagues to excuse my presence, I didn't know, but the latter just nodded when they passed. I sat on chairs in waiting rooms, trying to look human and not really caring if I failed, or stepped outside when the scent of blood became too much.

Carlisle forbade me to sit at her bedside, afraid that my presence might scare her when she finally opened her eyes, but he couldn't stop my frequent trips to the second floor to watch her from a distance. Just to make sure she was still there. Just to make sure her heart was still beating.

It didn't matter to me that mine no longer did. I couldn't think about any of that. All that mattered was her.

"She's awake," said Carlisle without preamble, finding me in the alley behind the hospital, leaning against the wall. He put a hand on my shoulder to stop me from running inside, taking the stairs two at a time or leaping up them in a single jump to get to my angel. "Her parents are with her now. As soon as she gave us her name, we were able to contact them. They had assumed that, when she did not return home, she was visiting with a friend." Guessing what I'd ask first, he asked, "Have you familiarized yourself with local society? Read any of the local papers?"

I nodded, and he continued. "None of us recognized her, due to her injuries, but she is Rosalie Hale."

_Rosalie._ It was a perfect name. My Rose. None of the other stuff Carlisle was saying - about who she was, the daughter of a prominent local banker - was important.

"When can I see her?"

"Soon," he said. "But I suggest you hunt first."

"I'm fine," I said, irritated. Did he think I couldn't control myself? Even for her? I would do anything to keep her safe.

He shook his head. "Your eyes are black, Emmett. Trust me, that is off-putting to even the most relaxed human. Imagine how frightening it might be for her."

Of course, Carlisle was right. But I didn't have to like it.

"Go," he continued. "When you return, I will take you to see her - but Emmett, you must be aware of your size, how imposing you can seem. At the _first_sign of distress from her, you must leave. I will explain to her only that you are my adopted son, and that you enjoy visiting patients who might want company. The rest is up to her. Do _not _overwhelm her, or you may do irreparable damage. And then-" his voice got firmer "-we will go home, together. I have told Esme and Edward only the basics, but this is a situation that must be discussed with the family. Leaving it until she awoke seemed the most sensible course of action, but if, after speaking with her, you still feel...as you do, we must decide on the best course of action. This is not the same as the situation in which I found myself with Esme. Rosalie is not dying."

Thank God. Anger rose inside me again at the thought of those monsters having killed her. I would never have known that she existed...that my angel walked the earth with the rest of us.

I hunted quickly, the animals I found going down with the same rage they had the last time I'd been out in the woods. I had to use this time to take the edge off my anger so that Rose would see nothing but gentleness when she saw me. So that I wouldn't scare her.

Soon...soon I would use a different kind of hunting to exorcise my fury, but first, I had to see her. My thirst quenched and my eyes gold in the reflection of a small pond, I went back to town. I hadn't been gone long - an hour at the most - but it was enough for the streets to have filled with people on their way to work or pleasure, suited men tipping their hats to the merry young girls strolling in the park.

Only a few days before, one of them might have been Rosalie, arm in arm with a friend as they went for coffee or lemonade. I could have sat on one of the stone benches and watched her, heard her laugh, seen her smile.

Instead, she was a crushed flower, my Rose, who had to be nursed back to health until the bloom reappeared on her cheeks.

Carlisle met me at the door, not saying anything as we walked up the stairs together. He paused briefly at the end of the ward, then nodded.

Finally, _finally _I stepped slowly forward to her bedside.

Slits of her eyes were visible beneath the swollen lids now - a mesmerizing shade of violet. She turned them to me when I approached.

And then, inexplicably, she smiled, wincing when the gesture stretched her cracked lips. "You look like Henry," she said hoarsely.

I breathed deeply, ignoring the scent of her blood, trying to calm myself. Who the hell was Henry? Was he one of _them?_ And if so, why was she smiling?

"Who is Henry?" I asked, as gently as I could.

She sighed. "My friend's baby. You have the same curls, the same dimples. I love him." I love you, I wanted to say, but tears had started to roll down her cheeks, one hand moving to rest on her belly. Quiet sobs wracked her body, her eyes falling shut. I was desperate to hold her and tell her it was all going to be all right, but it wouldn't be. Not yet. Not while she still couldn't feel safe."My name is Emmett," I said softly. "I'll come back tomorrow."

**0o0o0o0o0o**

"That poor girl," said my mother, saddened. It took only a brief look at her face to know she was remembering her own human past. "And you love her, Emmett?"

"I do," I said. There was no more to it than that.

"She's _human, _Emmett!" Edward growled, trying and obviously failing to stay calm. He glanced across the dining table we used for family meetings, looking from Carlisle to me and back again. "And _Rosalie Hale._ Are you both insane? Do any of you pay attention? Are you aware of who she _is _in this town?"

"Edward," Esme warned. "Emmett didn't ask for this."

"Of course we know of her social standing, Edward. No one is suggesting that we do anything rash, but the fact remains that she appears to be his mate, and that is something none of our kind can control. Imagine yourself in his shoes," said Carlisle.

"I'd leave," said Edward grimly. "Attempting - what - a courtship with a human is _begging _for disaster."

"You probably would," Carlisle agreed. "But you would come back. Love is stronger than the most determined of wills."

Edward didn't reply. Esme folded her hands on the polished tabletop and focused her eyes on me. "What _are _you planning to do?"

"I don't know." _Avenge her._ "See her. Be with her as much as I can, if she'll allow me." _Kill them._ "This can't be the first time this has happened to one of us, right? So few of us, so many of them... It'll work out, somehow." _After she knows she's safe._

Edward's eyes were boring holes into me, but I didn't meet them. I knew he could hear my thoughts, and I didn't care. He had done no different, in his time, and it had never been someone _he _loved that was hurt.

"Your faith is...admirable," said Carlisle. "And it seems to be the only reasonable plan at the moment. You are not tempted by her blood?"

I shook my head. "No more than with anyone else. I can handle it, especially for her."

"All right," he agreed. "But hunt regularly, and my original warnings on how to interact with her stand. Beyond anything else she is my patient, and you must not jeopardize her recovery."

"Promise," I said, standing.

Edward followed me outside. For miles we ran in silence, ducking and jumping through the woods, listening to animals scurrying out of our way. He slowed to a stop in a small clearing, dropping to the earth and leaning his back against a tall pine. "There are ways to do what you want."

"Even if you think I'm being an idiot?"

Chuckling, he shrugged. "Even then. Just because I think falling for a human girl is foolish, that doesn't mean I disagree with your other intentions."

"But you stopped," I argued.

"I missed Carlisle and Esme," he said. "And feeling as if I belonged somewhere. True, I don't feel as I did then - that it is my right to play executioner just because I _can_, but you would hardly be doing it for that reason. I have never felt the kind of love you have for her, or Carlisle has for Esme, but I can imagine the lengths to which I might go to avenge my mate if I had one. If this is what you need, I'll help you."

"I don't know who they are," I told him. "Carlisle said she refused to give their names." _Nameless, faceless cretins.__ Still out there, breathing undeserved air._ "I don't know if I can find them by scent alone."

"Leave that to me."

**0o0o0o0o0o**

If Carlisle knew what I was planning, he said nothing.

Maybe he hadn't guessed. Maybe he hoped Edward would keep me in line, either by convincing me to let the monsters live, or at least by giving me the benefit of his experience on how not to get caught.

Or maybe he just knew that he wouldn't be able to stop me.

As it was, I was getting impatient, though it had only been a few days since Edward's promise to help.

Vampires don't sleep, so they don't dream...but I spent hours imagining what I could do to them - all the ways I had at my disposal to end their miserable, worthless lives. My teeth were the obvious option, of course, but my hands twitched at fantasies of pulling their muscles from their bones, of ripping them limb from limb and scattering the pieces on dirty streets like the garbage they were.

She was sleeping again when I entered the room, shifting and whimpering as if nightmares disturbed her, which was probably the case. I moved swiftly to her, planning to hold and soothe her through the dream and damn the consequences, but stopped dead a few feet away.

A scent. One of _them._

_If he had been here..._

But no. Beneath the bed lay a crumpled note, saturated with an oily smell I recognized. Careful not to disturb my Rose's slumber, I retrieved the paper and smoothed its creases, quickly scanning the contents.

It was from her fiance - _former_ fiance - breaking off the engagement. Under the circumstances, he said. A man in his position, surely that could be understood.

Worded so carefully, in case anyone else ever read it. As if he had not been one of the monsters. Oh, he would pay for this. I had his name, now, seared into my mind after one glimpse of the elegant stationery. The temptation to go and find him _right then_ was nearly overwhelming, but I was smarter than that. A quick death was far too kind. I wanted him to suffer.

For this one, I would wait. He, like Rose, would hear of the deaths of the others, and each one would serve a dual purpose: a comfort for her, a threat to him. I wanted him to know that I was coming. His betrayal of her had been the worst, this man who was supposed to love her, care for her, pledge vows to her. And so he would hurt the most. I balled the note in my fist, crumbling it to dust, and sat in the chair at her side to wait.

"Emmett," she said a few hours later, opening her eyes.

I smiled. "Hello, Rosalie. How are you feeling?"

"Like I wish I was dead," she said bitterly. Inside my chest, my still heart felt as if it would crack open, be pummeled to pieces by heavy blows of rage. How _dare_ they do this, and make her feel this way?

I reached out to touch her before thinking better of it. My skin would feel cold to her, I knew, and the very fact that I was a man - of any kind - might terrify her. "Aw, please," I begged. "Please don't say that."

"Why do you even care?" she retorted angrily. "Your father told me you like to visit people here. Does that make you feel good? Does it make you feel like a man, when you look down on people weaker than you?"

"That's not-"

She turned her beautiful, swollen face from me. "Get out," she commanded. "Just go, and leave me here like the damaged goods I am."

"Rosalie-"

"Emmett," Carlisle interrupted from the doorway. I looked up to see him jerk his head. Reluctantly, I walked toward him, but didn't stop - and he didn't stop me. Only one thing was on my mind as I left the hospital, navigating around the crowds of people who spilled from taverns onto the streets.

I had to deserve her. Earn her. Place offerings at her feet as was befitting such a goddess.

I had to kill, and I would start tonight.

**0o0o0o0o0o**

The list of names was waiting for me, sitting on the desk in the room I'd taken as my own after Edward had chosen his. One I already knew, the other four were new to me. My brother had made good on his promise and then some, addresses and most common haunts included next to each. I'd have to thank him for that sometime; he'd enjoy an even faster car, or possibly a new piano.

Downstairs, I told Esme I was going out again. Something in her expression made me think that she, too, was aware of what I was about to do, but she simply came to me, wrapping her arms about my waist, telling me she loved me and that I was a good son...a good man.

Maybe she wished that someone would have disposed of the man she'd married when human, who had beat her relentlessly when he'd had too much whiskey, and had caused the death of her infant son because of it.

Downtown Rochester on a Friday night was a lively place. Prohibition in the country was over, and everywhere people celebrated the freedom to mingle beneath the stars, enjoying their glasses of beer or wine or sour mash. I'd only tasted alcohol a few times, back when I was human and the next farm over had a still in the barns, and I hadn't liked it much. As a vampire, of course, I'd had no reason or desire to try it again.

I'd smelled it, though. It had been all over Rosalie that first night, but it hadn't tainted the scent of her blood. They had left it on her, and now, as I stalked the busy streets, the fumes fueled my anger and whet a completely different kind of thirst.

From the list, I picked a name at random. Beyond leaving the worst for last, the order didn't matter. They were all going to die, one by one, and my angel would be avenged. Finding his address was easy, my senses identifying his presence in the house even easier. I lurked in the bushes outside, watching and waiting, biding my time.

He didn't keep me long. Less than an hour later the door opened and he stepped out, dressed for a night on the town, a carefree smile on his face.

I was smiling, too.

Not once did he look back, sensing he was being followed. Stopping first at a grimy dive bar nearby for a few quick shots of whiskey, he soon emerged, a little unsteady on his feet, and made his way to the main drag, pausing only to decide which establishment would get his business next. It was just a moment that he stood on the street corner beneath the glow of a lamp, glancing this way and that before nodding in satisfaction, but it was all I needed.

Maybe I wasn't quite as fast as Edward, but I was still a vampire, and no more than a blur to drunken revelers who'd just assume I was a trick of the light.

In seconds, he was pressed against the brick wall of a nearby alley, my hands at his throat and his eyes wide with fear, stinking sweat beading on his forehead.

"M-My wallet," he stammered, fumbling for his pockets. "Take it! My watch, too! Anything you want!"

"_Want?_" I hissed. "I can't have what I want, you piece of human scum, but I can take the next best thing. I can take your life. Go on, think about your life. They say it flashes in front of your eyes in the moments before you die. I can't really remember, but maybe it's true. I hope it is. I hope you're thinking about all the things you've done. I hope you're thinking about what you did a week ago."

Recognition lit his expression. "That wasn't-! Royce made me!" he pleaded.

I grinned at him, letting him see my teeth, white and sharp. "So you're just weak, then?" I asked.

He nodded frantically. "Yes! Yes! I never wanted to, Mister! I promise!"

"Weak. Good." I smiled again. "Just means you'll be even easier to kill."

He began to cry, and my burning anger blazed white hot. Only Rosalie deserved tears. His scream when I bared his neck was muffled by my hand, his attempts to bite _me_ so pathetic I almost started to laugh.

And then, for the first time, I sank my teeth into a human throat.

**0o0o0o0o0o**

The body crumpled at my feet like so much trash. I straightened, clenching my fists, willing the bloodlust to pass so that I wouldn't run from the alley and find the nearest beating heart.

Edward had taught me what I needed to know - to stand still and wait for the frenzy to subside, to make sure not even a drop of blood remained on my skin or clothing, and how to erase teethmarks from skin with a knife. That last one hadn't, usually, been an issue for him - he'd just dumped the body where it would never be found - but I needed this death to be known. And soon.

I did all of those things, now, before leaving and taking the fastest route out of town, searching for the nearest animal that would wash the flavor of human blood from my tongue, though not from my memories. It had been different - richer, fuller - but nothing about that cretin deserved the word_delicious._ This was not hunting for pleasure; when my work was done, I would never touch the stuff again.

My eyes, Edward promised, weren't going to be a problem. I'd worried about that, afraid still of anything that might frighten Rosalie, but he said it had taken far more than five of his own human kills to make an effect on their color. After all, it took half a year of steady hunting of animals to turn them from red to gold in the first place...a few humans were unlikely to make a difference.

That was good. Very good. I'd been away from my Rose for too long. It was late, and she would probably be sleeping, but she was as beautiful to me then as she was when she was awake, even kicking me out of her room. If she didn't want to see me, that was fine - painful, in a way I couldn't even describe, but it was a pain I'd happily bear if it took some of the burden from her. I'd always be around, protecting her, loving her, needing her.

Perhaps, one day, she'd need me, as well.

I passed the hours of night in the chair beside her bed, reaching several times to stroke her hair from her face before catching myself, and slipping quietly out of the door when her eyelids began to flutter. The dawning sky was clear; I would have to stay indoors today, or at least away from humans. Funny, how that had never bothered me before - Edward and I would play in the woods, or else amuse ourselves in the house somehow, and the day would fly by quickly, easily. There was so much to love about my life: strength, speed, reflexes, family, and all the time in the world to enjoy those things.

Now, though, even a few hours felt like forever, and I could only appreciate the endless time I had at my disposal because I could spend at least part of it watching over _her._

"Stop pacing, Emmett," Esme said gently, looking up from the flowers she was planting. Suffocated by the walls - Edward was right, they _were_ all the same - I'd come outside, and was wearing a groove in the grass between two flowerbeds.

"Sorry, Mom," I said, knowing she liked it when Edward and I called her that. She put down her spade and smiled up at me.

"I'm worried about you, darling," she said.

"Aw, don't be," I assured her. "I'm fine." _I will be, when the rest of them are dead._ "I just don't like being away from Rose." _When I can't see her, and know that she's safe._

She nodded. "It is difficult, especially in the early days of mating. Carlisle and I... Well, I know you rely on your physical power much of the time, but your ability to keep the distance she needs from you right now shows your inner strength."

I sat down next to her in the soft grass. "What would you have done, I mean, if you'd had a choice?"

Esme didn't ask what I meant. "I don't know," she said honestly. "Carlisle believes that this life should only be given to one whose human life is coming to an end, as mine was - and yours, and Edward's, but I believe love would have found a way for me and him, no matter what. I believe that for you, too."

"Thanks, Mom."

She stood, walking over to a bush heavy with blooming roses. "The sun will set soon," she said, cutting several of the flowers. "Give her these."

I took them, smiling. "I will. They'll go well with my other gift."

Again, she didn't ask what I meant.

**0o0o0o0o0o**

Milestones became important. Rose's first tentative steps after many days in bed deserved a celebration, didn't they?

I left the drained and mangled body of the second monster in a park, beneath the swaying leaves of a giant oak. He'd be found by morning, just as the first had been, and would warrant a few inches of print in the paper - maybe more than he was worth, but it was a necessary evil.

Just like me.

Like the first, he, too, had cried and begged for his life, for mercy.

Shame I hadn't been in a merciful mood.

Death takes longer to arrive when the bite is at the wrist. He'd been forced to watch his life flow out of him until unconsciousness took over. After, I'd hunted, waited for daylight, and returned to Rose, who only watched me in silence, but had stopped ordering me to leave.

Small progress, but I'd take it. I had forever to walk...so it didn't really matter how small the steps were.

Under the cover of night, I let those steps take me, for the first time, to her home. Handsome and well-kept, it was quiet at the late hour; the pace of the heartbeats I heard inside told me they were sleeping. It didn't take me long to find her room, but when I entered it I allowed myself to stand for several moments, breathing in the girl she'd been here.

She would have felt safe in this room. Like nothing could touch her - that's what home was for.

I would make her feel that way again.

It was very...pink. Not my taste, but fitting for a Rose. Budding flowers were scattered over the wallpaper, and every inch of the bed was covered in satin cushions.

_Very _pink.

A small collection of books sat on a shelf - exactly what I'd come for. Most of them looked new, or nearly so, but a few were worn, well-loved. My fingers and senses searched out the one she appeared to have read the most, its pages thinned by time and turning, the binding dented and scuffed.

_Little Women._ I'd never read it - it had always sounded like a book for, well, _girls_, but if it was what she liked...

It took three days of reading to her before she talked.

"How did you know?" she asked, interrupting me in the middle of a sentence. I closed the book and grinned at her. The bruises were fading, yellow on cream now instead of the violent purple they had been, and the face that gazed questioningly at me was breathtaking.

"Know what?"

She nodded toward my hands. "That that one's my favorite."

"I had some help," I answered. In a broad sense, it wasn't a lie. Fetching it had been Edward's suggestion.

"Oh." My answer seemed to appease her, because she didn't pursue it. Instead, she said, "I got it when I was a little girl - a present from my Grandmother Hale. I was so angry that it wasn't the doll I'd asked for that I threw it across the room." She looked piercingly at me. "I'm used to getting what I want, you know. Mother and Father have always spoiled me, given me the best of everything. And now..." Her voice trailed off as she shook her head and blinked away tears. "Anyway. I read it, later, when no one could see."

"What do you want now, Rosalie?" I asked. _I__'ll give you anything. Do you know about the presents I've already left for you? The bodies wrapped in death and tied with ribbons of their own blood?_

Her mouth opened and closed several times. "I'm going home tomorrow," she said finally, a trace of something bitter in her tone.

"I know," I said. "Car- My father told me." And he'd asked what I planned to do when I couldn't visit with her as freely as I could here at the hospital.

"You won't get to finish." She nodded at the book again.

"You know the ending." I couldn't tell her that I would still see her, still protect her.

For a few minutes, there was nothing but the sound of machines and footsteps in the hallway outside.

"I'd like it if you'd finish," she said, not looking at me. "You could...come to call on me."

The air I was unnecessarily breathing suddenly tasted sweeter. Colors in the dim room brightened almost to blinding point. "Your parents?" I asked, struggling for calm.

She turned to face me again. "I'm used to getting what I want," she repeated. "And they don't know what to do with me anymore. Have you noticed they're not here? Mother is at home, telling lies to my little brothers about what happened to me. Father is at work, making excuses for why my fiance-" she spat the word "-and I will not be continuing our engagement. I am useless to them now. Useless to everyone, even myself."

I could feel it, the anger that simmered constantly inside me, threatening to boil over once more. _Three more.__ Three more monsters who will regret the day they ever set eyes on her as much as I bless the day I did._

"Not to me," I told her.

"I believe you," she said softly. "I don't know why, but I do."

**0o0o0o0o0o**

This one was more careful. Maybe that was just the way he was, or maybe he was just this side of too stupid to piece together the truth, if he'd heard of the first two deaths.

Too bad, that the shiny, sturdy new locks on his door wouldn't keep me out.

Or that when he heard the splintering of wood, he couldn't run fast enough. I caught up with him in the kitchen, reeking dishes piled high in the sink and the remains of a fried supper on the grease-coated stove.

"Who are you?" he shouted. His eyes were wide with fear, but, backed against a rickety table, he squared his shoulders and stood his ground.

A feisty one. This would be different. Fun.

I gave him the smile humans never got - the one that showed all my teeth. "A better question would be _what _am I, but it doesn't really matter. We're not here to talk about me, we're here for _you_."

"I ain't done nothing," he spat. "Get outta my house or you'll see the end of my rifle."

"Try it," I shrugged. But he didn't move.

"Smart." I took a step toward him. "_You _are the reason the woman I love is hurting, so I am going to hurt _you_. _You _are the reason I can't touch her, so I'm going to put my hands around _your _throat. I can't kiss _her_, so I'm gonna _kill you._"

It had been the same with the first two, the way comprehension dawned on his face. "That blonde bitch of Royce's? She ain't yours, pal."

"Oh, yeah, she is," I snarled, advancing on him even more. "And I'm gonna to do what any gentleman would do for his woman. I'm gonna give her a present. I'm gonna give her your dead body, to thank her for talking with me today."

Fear finally overcame his bravado, and he started to shake. "We can make a deal, man! Let me go, and I'll...I'll..."

Letting him finish would have been pointless. Cruel, even, to give him hope when there wasn't any. The skin of his throat gave way easily to my teeth, and his gushing blood flowed swiftly from his body - as if it wanted to be rid of this scum as much as I did.

Draining him didn't take long, my powerful jaws working at his veins. Soon, he was a dry shell of the monster he'd been, crumpling to the floor as I let him go. Again, I felt the rush of need, of more thirst, of a frenzy to kill and kill and kill some more, but it passed while I stood rigid in the middle of the floor, thinking of my Rose and finding calm.

This was all for her.

Quickly, I took care of the necessary details and left the house, letting my route out of town take me past the hospital. I knew her heartbeat, her breath, and I listened for a few minutes, assuring myself that she was still safe before heading for the woods to find an animal. It was summer, and the deer were fat and happy, gathered in herds around watering holes. Two of them fell under my hands and teeth, cleaning my mouth and my mind until I felt like myself once more.

"Emmett." Carlisle greeted me at the door of our home, as if he'd been waiting for me. Which he probably had.

Right away, my mind went to Rose, even though I'd checked on her less than an hour ago. "Is she all right?"

"Of course," he said, smiling and motioning for me to follow him. We settled ourselves in his office. "I would have sent Edward to find you otherwise. He has not only his talent, but a very clear idea of how you are spending your time these days - and nights - does he not?"

That was Carlisle all over, confirming my guess that he knew what I was up to, without throwing the truth in my face.

"Yes," I said, and if there was a measure of defiance in my voice, it was only because I had no regrets - except that there were still two left to kill.

He fixed his eyes on me. "You have accepted Edward's help, remembering, I am sure, that it was not so long ago that he did this very kind of thing himself. You forget, perhaps, my own history, and that I am no stranger to seeking out those who I had been told were evil."

I stared at him. Carlisle had told me the story of his human life when I was only weeks old, in vampire terms, and though I hadn't forgotten, I hadn't thought about it when starting my mission. "You didn't agree with your father," I finally said.

"Not then, and not now," he agreed, inclining his head, "but the fact remains that I did it, and for less reason than you have."

Edward had basically said the same thing. "So if you're not telling me to stop, then what's this about?"

"I just want to ensure that you are being careful. If you - we - are discovered for what we are, we shall all have to leave here, and I am certain you do not want to do that. You may even have decided to remain, in the shadows, after the rest of us are forced to move on, so that you might stay near Rosalie. I do not know, and that is your own decision to make. However, if you wish that to be an available option, you must protect yourself."

"I am," I told him firmly.

"Good." He nodded. "Then we are done here, and no doubt you would like to return to her." Gesturing toward the door, he stood.

I was nearly outside when he spoke again. "Emmett?"

I stopped.

"Even now, even believing what I do...I would do the same for Esme."

**0o0o0o0o0o**

Rosalie sat in a rocking chair on the covered porch of her home, a blanket over her legs even though it was hot enough almost to make a vampire sweat - which isn't possible, but even so. She must have been feeling the cold from inside herself, or hoping that the wool would protect her in some way.

_It won't, my Rose, but don't worry.__ I will._

Thick clouds had moved in during the morning to cover the sky, and the heavy air promised a wicked storm. Fat raindrops started to fall as I stood at the gate, waiting for her to look up.

"Well, don't just stand there," she said when eventually her eyes lifted from her hands. I was through the gate and halfway up the walk - at human speed - before I realized she probably hadn't spoken loudly enough that I should have been able to hear her.

_Damn._

But she didn't mention it when I got to her side, and neither did I. Despite the general impression people had had of me when I was human, I was no idiot.

We sat together as the rain fell, me reading out loud and Rose trying to hide her fear when lightning cracked overhead. After a few hours, an older version of my angel stepped out onto the porch; she eyed me curiously but said nothing except to offer lemonade, which Rose accepted for both of us before I could say no.

When it came, I held the glass in my hands, wondering if she'd notice that I wasn't drinking it.

Maybe she did, but when she opened her mouth, it was to ask me about myself. Seeing curiosity in her eyes instead of anger or tears made me want to tell her everything, though of course I couldn't, and she seemed to accept the half-truths and practiced lies I gave her instead.

One day, I would tell her the truth - about all of it. But not now. It was still too soon, and she was still too fragile.

And there were still two monsters out there who needed to be taken care of. If I was going to confess it all - my love, my devotion, my acts of vengeance - then she had to know I meant them all completely, which meant removing those final pieces of scum from the face of the earth first.

I was already thinking of the next one. Where I'd find him, and what I'd say before I drank his worthless blood.

I took my leave when evening fell and the cooler air brought by the storm began to make her shiver, a flower trembling in the wind.

When I promised to come back the next day, she smiled. A small one, but it was there. It took a huge effort to wait until I was in the woods before running and jumping and whooping, happier than I'd ever been.

**0o0o0o0o0o**

"Did you know there's a killer in Rochester?"

If my heart hadn't been dead as a hunk of rock, it would've missed its beat. Because of course I knew, and she was aiming that piercing violet stare on me again - a look that would have quelled a lesser man.

She could be fierce, my Rosalie. It was hidden behind too many other things, but we had sat together on this porch every day for two weeks, and sometimes it escaped.

"A killer?" Lucky for me, vampires were good at being evasive, or I'd have been in real trouble.

Rosalie nodded. "You should be careful," she said tonelessly, still watching my face. "He's hunting men."

_Yes, I was.__ And I'd left the fourth one drained and lifeless four nights ago.__ His name had been in the papers this morning, the article full of worthless statements about his kindness and honor from people who'd known him._

Hah. He'd threatened me with every torture he could think of, and when that hadn't worked, he'd cried like a baby...though admittedly not for very long.

"I can take care of myself," I promised her. _And you.__ Only one more, sweetheart.__ And I saved him specially for last.__ You know, Edward's been listening around for me.__ They say Royce King has hired bodyguards and locked himself away, though he won't tell anyone why he's so afraid for his life._

She nodded and fell silent. We'd finished _Little Women _days ago, and now sat just talking or, more often, watching trees sway in the breeze.

I left her at night, but I never went far. Edward had suggested that if I was that intent on guarding her I could easily slip into her room and watch her sleep, but I restrained myself, and just stayed close enough to still be able to hear her breathing.

After a few long minutes, she spoke again. "Do you enjoy your life?"

"What do you mean?" _I love running, and hunting.__ I love you, and that I found you.__ I love killing for you._

Her hands twisted in her lap. "I used to have everything I wanted, or I was going to get it. I was the envy of every girl I knew. I was beautiful, witty, about to be married to a rich man who was going to buy me a big house and give me adorable babies." Her face twisted into a grimace. "I see how fake all of that was, now. Oh, I'd still want those things, if I could have them, but I can't. So now I wonder what comes next, and when I lay awake at night, thinking that _nothing _comes next for me, I wish they'd killed me instead of leaving me alive."

It was the closest she'd ever come to talking about what had actually happened, and the urge to pull her into my arms grew stronger than ever. It was strange for me - I'd always settled fights with my brothers by pushing them over, I hugged Esme instead of telling her I loved her, I wrestled with Edward when I needed to burn off steam. With Rosalie, I could only use words.  
"You're still beautiful," I told her. "The most beautiful girl I've ever seen. And there is always something else. Another choice. My life is nothing like how I used to imagine it would be, but it's more perfect because of that."

She glared at me. "What choice do _I _have?" When I didn't answer right away, she leaned forward - the first time she'd ever come closer to me. Her hand stretched out, and together we registered my cold skin as she touched it. Her eyes widened in shock.

I stood quickly - maybe too fast. "I have to go," I said, and hurried down the garden path.

**0o0o0o0o0o**

The reports about Royce King were true.

Coward. I could smell his fear a block away, even through the walls of the room where he was hiding, and the rage it fueled blinded me to everything else. Distant sounds faded to quiet in my ears, and all I could smell was his blood.

My fight wasn't with the armed guards outside his door, they were just an obstacle I dealt with quickly - and painlessly for them.

The same couldn't be said for the evil scum on the other side of it. He looked up when I entered, lifting his head from shaking knees, the bottle of rum falling from his hand and rolling across the floor. He was already leaning against the wall, and still the idiot tried to back away.

"I don't think I need to tell you why I'm here," I snarled at him, advancing on his worthless body.

"She's a liar! I never touched her!" he yelled, drunken hands scrabbling for the pistol that lay a few feet away. "Whatever she told you-"

"Now, Royce," I interrupted him. "We both know that's just not true. You know it. I know it. The four who are rotting in the ground know it. Didn't your mama ever tell you not to lie?"

His blood thundered in his veins, so loud in the enclosed space. Just the sound alone made me thirsty.

"I saved this moment," I continued, stepping even closer to him. "I wanted your fear. I wanted you to feel even a little of what you did to her. I wanted you to look in my eyes and know what it's like to hope that you die, just so that it's over faster. But it's not going to be. Not for you. I was a little kinder to some of the others, but you...you're going to _feel _every drop of blood leave your veins. You're going to feel horrible pain, and know suffering you've never even dreamed of." I was inches away from him now, his body frozen in terror. Leaning down, I smelled the rush of blood and adrenaline under the thin skin of his neck, but I didn't bite. Instead, I whispered in his ear, "And you know what? It's _still _gonna be too good an end for you."

Screams echoed around the small room, but I ignored them. With the hand that my Rose had touched only hours ago, I lifted him easily and threw him on the makeshift bed. In seconds the ropes I pulled from my pocket had bound him, spread-eagled, on the dirty coverlet.

And I started at his feet. Everywhere there was a vein, every spot that his pulse beat close to the surface got the benefit of my teeth. From each I took just a little, a few swallows that soothed the burn in my throat and set his flesh on fire.

His screams for help went unanswered, of course. When he started begging for death, it didn't come nearly fast enough. Only when he'd fallen unconscious from the pain did I speed up, ready to be rid of him, out of this suffocating room, and back with my Rose. Finally, his veins dried up completely and I straightened, I gasping and shuddering, feeling his blood course through me and resisting the urge to find another victim. Someone...anyone.

Slowly, I calmed myself, and the bloodlust was replaced by relief.

It was done. I was finished. I had avenged my Rose, and now she could thrive in the sunshine.

"I knew it was you."

I wheeled around at the voice. There, standing in the doorway, was my angel, tall and strong and beautiful. She held her head high, and there was no look of disgust or fright on her face at the sight of the drained body.

"I didn't at first," she said, coming toward me. "I just thought you were visiting me for the reason Doctor Cullen gave - that you enjoy spending time with patients. But all that time you sat at my bed, never leaving, never going to see another that I could see... Every time you came to my home... All that time you were reading to me and you thought I wasn't listening, I was watching you. I started to see how different you are. Your eyes. That you were gone whenever the sun shone. That there was just something...unnatural about you. And when I touched you, well...I knew for sure, somehow."

"Rose-"

She held up her hand. "When I heard about the first death, I just thought it was coincidence. Oh, I was happy about it, but I just assumed he must have done something to someone else. Someone in a position to fight back. Or-" she smiled slightly "-he was in the right place at the right time. But then I read about the second one, and I began to wonder. Still not about _you_, but whether I had a guardian angel somewhere. I guess in that way, I was right."

I stood completely still. She was so close to me now, the first time she had ever been this close. We were almost touching - not just my hand, but our entire bodies. Heat from hers washed over me, bathing me in warmth. "I thought I would be scared, you know, when I asked around and found out they were drained of blood. I thought you were just...a mythical creature. I even wondered if I'd gone mad, and if I'd imagined you completely. But you kept coming back."

Her hand, with its long, elegant fingers, trailed up my arm to rest on my shoulder. "I thought I would be scared," she said again. "But I've known fear, and this isn't it. The life I once wanted is over, but you can give me something else, can't you?"

Slowly, very slowly, I nodded.

"I want to be strong," she said, moving her hand to the back of my neck, soft and warm and unlike anything I'd ever known. "I don't want to feel pain, ever again."

"You won't," I promised. "Nothing will ever be able to hurt you."

The fullest smile I'd ever seen her wear bloomed on her face, but I only saw it for an instant before she pressed her lips to mine, gently and swiftly. It was the smell of apples in sunshine, the happiness of playing in a cool creek on a hot summer's day, the pure thrill of love I'd known the moment I saw her. Pulling away, she turned to face the mangled body on the bed and leaned over it, spitting in his shrunken face. Then she held out her hand. I took it, following her across the room as surely as I would've followed her to the ends of the earth.

* * *

**Next up later tonight, a one shot from Legna989 **


	4. One Shot from Legna989

**Pen name: **Legna989

**Rating: **M

**Pairing: **Emmett & Rosalie

**Title: **Flouting Leviticus

**Summary: **When Emmett encounters his singer, the exhilaration of drinking human blood becomes too much to resist. Pre-Twilight/Twilight AU.

**AN:** Thank you, as always, to ElleCC for the beta work. Thank you to HMonster4, AccioBourbon and TheHeartOfLife for organizing the Thirty Days of Emmett and giving the big guy his due.

* * *

_October 15, 1949_

The smell of apples and freshly-harvested hay permeated the air as I made my way along the tree line bordering the dirt road that led back to our house. It had been a perfect autumn day—warm and sunny—which kept us housebound and left Rose in a mood to go out for a night on the town.

Rose and I had been living apart from the family for about a year, posing as the young married couple we never would have been in our other lives. We didn't attend school, so we often went out dancing or to the movies to make sure we remained acclimated to humans.

Tonight, we were going dancing. Rosalie on the dance floor was a sight to behold, and as the dance hall in Montpelier was likely to be quite crowded on this Saturday night, she was determined to be completely flawless.

Which is what landed me on this errand. Rosalie's last pair of stockings had a snag, so she sent me to fetch a new pair.

The air was beginning to cool now that it was dusk, the crisp bite of winter's herald coming on quickly as the sun continued its descent behind the mountains. The wind shifted just a bit, and-

_Bam!_

The scent was like a physical force, making me stutter-step as I turned toward its source. My mind didn't register the branches I was rending from their trees as I tore through the forest, or the white cotton that fluttered in the dying breeze, or the house that was mere yards away. My ears barely heard the quiet "Oh!" as my teeth sank into plump flesh and my venom paralyzed my prey.

My only focus was the ambrosia, warm and sweet, passing through my lips and charging my cold body with a warmth and electricity unlike anything I'd ever felt.

All too soon, I found myself sucking at dry veins and I nearly roared in frustration. I licked all around the wound my teeth had left, turning my prey this way and that, seeking any stray drop of blood that might have escaped. The last turn left me looking into the unseeing eyes of the woman I'd just killed.

I dropped her and took a step back. She was a hearty woman, middle-aged, and soft with the evidence of child bearing. A wicker basket lay toppled on its side a few feet away. She'd been collecting her laundry.

We were hidden from the house by the white sheets that still hung on the line. I was tempted to wrap her in one; she seemed so like a gift to me. But I knew the rules—I needed to make her death look like anything but what it truly was.

I picked up her limp body and stole back into the trees. Her neck was already ravaged quite severely; my desperation had made me messy. With just a few more scrapes and cuts left by my hands and teeth, she easily looked like the victim of an animal attack. Her house was so close to the forest that it would be the logical conclusion the humans would draw.

I raced back home, exhilarated by the boost in speed and power the woman's blood had given me. I reckoned I was as fast as Edward; my feet barely touched the forest floor. As I approached the small creek that bordered our property, I launched myself off the ground and flew farther than I ever had before, landing neatly on the bottom step of the porch.

The windows and doors were open, and Rosalie's scent wafted over me. I was hit with a surge of lust so powerful that I nearly tore the screen door off the hinges in my haste to get inside.

"Emmett, where—"

My lips were on hers before she could finish her sentence.

After a moment, she tore her mouth away from mine.

"You taste like blood. Emmett?"

She'd noticed my red eyes and was looking into them questioningly. I knew she wouldn't judge me, but she would want to make sure I had taken care of everything, and I wasn't in the mood for an interrogation. I was just in the mood.

I picked her up and slammed her against the wall. Plaster rained down on us and a loud crack indicated that a support beam was damaged. It wouldn't be the first house we'd ruined.

I pinned her against the wall with my hips so I could use my hands to rip the clothes from her body. Rosalie responded in kind, and in seconds, our clothing was in tatters around us.

I entered her in one thrust, and both of us cried out.

I pounded against her relentlessly, at inhuman speed. The support beam gave way, and we toppled to the floor, Rosalie spinning us at the last second so I landed on my back. We didn't even lose our rhythm, Rosalie now writhing above me. I'd never seen anything so beautiful and erotic.

Her head was thrown back, golden waves bouncing in time with my thrusting. I reached up to grab her breasts, pinching and pulling, and then sat up so I could replace my hands with my mouth.

Rosalie moaned, and I moved one hand down to where we were joined. I applied just the right amount of pressure, moving my finger at a speed no human could achieve, and within moments, Rosalie was crying out my name and clinging to me for dear life.

I rolled us over and knelt between her legs. Rosalie braced herself against the portion of the wall that was still intact as I lifted her hips and continued thrusting into her violently. It wasn't long before I achieved my release and collapsed on top of her.

After several moments, Rosalie finally spoke. "Not that I'm complaining, but what was that?"

I told her what had happened, and as I'd predicted, she wanted to make sure I'd covered my tracks. Even though she seemed reassured, she cancelled our plans to go out, insisting that we start repairing the damage to the house right away in case we needed to leave town in a hurry.

We might have gotten it done that night if we hadn't kept causing more damage.

I was insatiable, and I wasn't sure if it was Rosalie's body or the dead woman's blood that I craved more. But there was only one I could have over and over.

_February 23, 1954_

"Where're you going, Emmett?"

I startled slightly at the sound of Alice's voice, then chastised myself for being caught off-guard. Alice was tiny, and while we were all able to move quickly and relatively silently, Alice was the quietest—sneakiest—of us all.

"To hunt." My voice brooked no invitation, but, of course, that didn't deter Alice.

"Want some company?"

_Not particularly_, I thought. I hadn't been trying to sneak out, exactly, and had it been anyone but Alice or Edward asking, I wouldn't have minded the company. It's not like I had plans beyond hoping to find some bear. But I couldn't say no; they were already suspicious enough of me.

Although I hadn't killed a single human in the month that Rosalie and I had been back with the Cullens, Edward and his new sidekick kept an annoyingly close watch on me. They knew why Rosalie and I had come back to live with the family. Even if my red-tinged eyes hadn't given me away, Edward would have picked every detail out of our heads, whether we'd told him or not.

Rosalie had given only the most generic information about my exploits to the family upon our return, but Edward had plucked the particulars out of her worried mind, and then he turned to me.

I'd always been someone who said what he meant and meant what he said, so I never felt the need to keep Edward out of my mind. I saw the minute he realized my lack of remorse and my less than solid commitment to the animal diet: his spine stiffened ever so slightly, and his head cocked just a little to the right. I knew that if I ever hoped to have any kind of peace living with the family, I needed to work on shielding my thoughts from Edward.

Rose and I hadn't visited the family since I'd killed that woman in Vermont, despite Esme's pleas. Perhaps if it had just been the one human, we might have—others in the family have had their slip-ups, after all—but because I kept chasing that high, Rosalie kept making excuses for us. And although Rosalie said she wanted us to rejoin the family because she missed them, I knew that at least a part of her thought that being around more vegetarians would help me stick to the diet more easily.

We returned to a family with a different dynamic than the one we'd left. Rosalie and Edward had always butted heads. They were too alike for their own good, in many ways, and they both resented that Carlisle had initially intended them for each other. Despite that, though, Rosalie had always loved Edward like a brother. It hurt her—though she'd never admit it—to find that Edward had become closer to a new sister, Alice, in just four years than Rosalie and Edward had ever been.

Alice and her mate, Jasper, had joined the family while Rose and I were away, and they each brought their unique gifts with them. It made me nervous. I knew Jasper could sense the longing I felt for human blood, but I also knew he understood it—he'd subsisted solely on human blood for nearly a century.

Alice, though… she was a different story. Her gift wasn't precise, and what she saw was often open to interpretation. She could also "see" those to whom she was closest more clearly than she could see anyone else. Which is why she was constantly harassing me—hovering, inviting herself along on every outing, insinuating herself into every conversation.

It was irritating.

"Uh, sure, Alice. You can come if you want," I replied.

Her face fell slightly at my obvious lack of enthusiasm, but I couldn't bring myself to care. I didn't _want_ to get to know Alice better. It was bad enough that Edward was in my head; I didn't need her there, too.

We ran through Yoho National Park silently, both of us seemingly focused on the hunt. I had to admit that the family's home in Golden, British Columbia, was a pretty good place to maintain an animal diet. Its proximity to so many national parks meant there was a wealth of wildlife from which to choose; I was sure the family had relocated here with Jasper's struggles in mind.

I caught the scent of a Silvertip and veered quickly left. I could see Alice out of the corner of my eye and kicked my speed up a notch. No _way_ was she getting to my kill.

As it turned out, Alice wasn't trying to get to my kill. As we approached the stream where the bear was cleaning itself, she dropped back, seemingly content to watch. I'd always enjoyed a good grizzly fight, so I was happy enough to put on a show for Alice, getting the bear good and riled up before finally sinking my teeth into the fur and sinew at its neck.

"You seemed to enjoy that," Alice said when I was finished.

I shrugged. "Bears are fun." She moved with me as I carried the carcass to the edge of a small ravine and threw it over. "Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I was killed by a bear," I continued. "Eternal revenge and all that."

Alice laughed. "Maybe. Or maybe you just enjoy a little challenge."

It was my turn to laugh. "Maybe I do, Alice."

"You're one of the happiest vampires I've ever met, Emmett," she said. "You haven't just accepted what you are, you revel in it."

There was a slight edge to her voice that put _me_ on edge. I hummed noncommittally. "Well, when life gives you lemons…."

"Hm."

"Well, should we find you something to eat?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

"Oh, I'm not hungry," Alice replied. "I just wanted to spend some time with you."

"Well, that's… nice. Uh, I'm done, so I guess we should head back?"

"Sure, if you're ready." She paused. "I like you, Emmett. I hope you're able to stay for a while."

The warning in her voice was clear enough to me. She'd be watching.

_June 3, 1956_

"What the hell were you thinking, Emmett?" Edward yelled.

"Shut up, Edward. Just shut up!"

I hated that Rosalie was fighting my battles for me, but I had no words to explain myself, to defend what I'd done. I didn't even feel bad.

"That's right. You don't even feel bad, do you, Emmett?"

Dammit. I knew I should have been trying harder to keep Edward out of my head, but I was still too buzzed from the blood of the two humans I'd drained not an hour earlier.

"Of course he feels bad, Edward," Rosalie argued.

"Mind reader, Rosalie. Remember?"

"Well, he _will_ feel bad, once he's had a chance to think about it."

Edward shook his head in exasperation.

"It's not like you haven't killed more than your share of humans, Edward. God! You are such a hypocrite!"

"Enough." Carlisle's voice was calm, quiet even, but rang with an authority that immediately quelled the argument between Rose and Edward. "Everyone, please sit."

The props of human life—like the dining table around which we all arranged ourselves—sometimes came in handy.

"As you all know, I have chosen to lead a life quite different from most vampires," Carlisle began. "I've never judged anyone else's choices, however; I know that this life isn't for everyone.

"I also understand that accidents happen. We've all had our share of slip-ups."

It was kind, if untrue, of Carlisle to include himself in that statement.

"We've moved three times in two years because of Emmett's 'slip-ups,' Carlisle," Edward said snidely.

"Edward, I swear to God—"

"Rosalie, Edward, enough." Carlisle's voice was stern, but his face softened as he turned to me.

"Emmett, you have been a most welcome addition to our family. I could not love you more, especially for everything you have given to the first of my daughters." His eyes turned sad and begged for understanding. "But you cannot continue to live with the family if you cannot maintain our diet."

"Carlisle!" Rosalie started to argue, but he spoke over her.

"I do not think any less of you, and were you to decide to live a more conventional vampire lifestyle, I would not judge you for it. But there is a reason that most vampires are nomads: they cannot live permanently among their prey."

"Are you— Are you kicking us out?" Rosalie asked incredulously.

"I'm giving Emmett a choice, Rosalie," Carlisle answered. "We will have to move; there is no question. Emmett killed two people in broad daylight while they were on their way home from Mass. This is a small area, and many of the locals still believe the old Druid myths. We cannot avoid suspicion."

I lowered my eyes to the table, not because I felt bad, but because I didn't.

"Emmett is, of course, welcome to move with us, but only if he is able to promise me that there will be no more killing of humans."

"He can promise to _try_, Carlisle. That's all any of us can do." Rosalie, God love her, was still trying to make the case for me.

Carlisle turned to me again. "Emmett, I get the sense—and again, I say this without judgment—that you are not truly committed to feeding only on animals. If I am wrong about this, please feel free to correct me."

I finally looked him in the eye, ruby to amber.

"For Rose's sake, I want to be."

Carlisle smiled wryly. "But you are not."

I shook my head slightly.

Carlisle nodded. "I understand, perhaps more than you believe. But since that is the case, I'll have to ask you to make your own way."

I nodded. "Rosalie can stay, though, right?"

"Emmett, I won't stay without you. Unless— Do you not want me with you?"

"Of course I want you with me, Rosalie. But I know you miss the family when we're away, and I don't want you to have to sacrifice that for me."

"You're _everything_ to me, Emmett. If you go, I go."

Esme let out a tearless sob, and Carlisle took her hand.

"Then I guess it's settled," Carlisle said. "You will, of course, have access to all of the accounts, and the use of any residences you may need."

"And you are both welcome to come back anytime," Esme added.

"Anytime," Carlisle agreed.

_April 24, 1989_

"_The body of a young woman, estimated to be in her early to mid-twenties, was discovered today along interstate one ninety-five. The remains are believed to be those of Sandy Botelho, a twenty-four-year-old mother of two who was first reported missing last August."_

Rosalie turned to me, eyes wide.

"_That brings to nine the total number of bodies discovered in the area since July of last year. All are believed to be victims of a serial killer, dubbed 'the New Bedford Highway Killer.' Two other women have been reported missing, but their remains have yet to be found. A sheriff's department spokesman said today that they were working closely with the state bureau of investigation and were pursuing several leads."_

Rosalie shook her head. "Emmett…."

I sighed. "Rosalie, there is no way they will ever trace the bodies back to me. I have been very careful, which is why the bodies haven't been found right away. Hell, they've barely been able to identify the victims!"

"They are looking for _someone_, Emmett. A serial killer!"

"I'm a _vampire_, Rosalie. I leave no fingerprints, no fluids or hairs that can be identified."

"Emmett, that is so far off the point that I don't even know where to start."

"Well, what is the point, then?"

"The Volturi, for one, Emmett! Even if the humans can't figure out that it's you, it's only a matter of time before the Volturi figure out that a vampire is drawing the kind of attention that no vampire can afford."

"So, we move."

"And what? Wait until the bodies start piling up there, too?"

"Okay. So we travel for a while instead."

"I don't want to live like a nomad, Emmett." Rosalie's shoulders slumped. "We've tried that, and it just doesn't work for me."

I scoffed. "It's hardly 'living like nomads' when we stay in luxury hotels."

"It is when I'm worried the whole time that you're going to kill one of the other guests! Or that someone will notice your red eyes." Rosalie's eyes were burning with frustrated tears she would never shed.

I gathered her in my arms and stroked her hair. "What do you want to do, Rosie?"

She took a deep breath. "I want to rejoin the family."

Several moments passed silently.

"They won't let me live with them."

"They will if you give up human blood."

Could I? Did I want to? I knew that if I were human, my heart would be pounding, giving away my true desires. Rosalie didn't need such clues, however. She knew me better than I knew myself.

She pulled away, looking into my crimson eyes. "Will you not, even for me?"

"Rosalie, I love you…."

She removed herself fully from my arms and turned away.

"But you won't give it up."

"I can't."

_November 20, 2002_

"How long will you stay?"

I hesitated. I wanted to tell her that I'd stay as long as she wanted me to, but I knew that wasn't realistic. Winter in this area of Alaska meant even fewer humans; only the most hardcore wilderness hikers enjoyed exploring this area at its most extreme, and it wouldn't do to hunt locals.

"As long as I can."

She snuggled more closely to me. As it always was after being apart for some time, our love-making had been explosive. Destructive. I'd never been more thankful that the Cullens had what amounted to a compound of cabins on their Denali property.

"I should probably stay at least long enough to fix the damage," I mused.

Rosalie laughed. "Probably." She got quiet again, then added, "Maybe you can come back for Christmas?"

"Definitely."

"Carlisle's been talking about moving again at the end of the school year."

I could tell there was more she wanted to say, so I remained quiet.

"Maybe you could move with us this time," she whispered.

This was always the hardest part. I didn't feel one ounce of guilt over repudiating the "vegetarian" diet, but I made up for it in spades with the guilt I felt over disappointing Rosalie.

"Aw, Rosie, you know why I can't." I felt her nod slowly against my chest. "But depending on where you go, maybe I could visit more often, even get my own place nearby."

"We'll see," she said.

"We'll see."

_January 27, 2005_

"I'm so glad you're here. I didn't expect to see you so soon after the holidays."

"I'm glad to be here."

Esme curled her arm around mine as she steered me into the living room. "Things are… difficult right now. She needs you."

I nodded. "It's quite the mess Edward's gotten himself into, isn't it?"

"The girl hasn't said anything so far, and Alice seems certain she won't." Esme shrugged. "I'm probably silly to hope, but…."

"But what?"

"He's just been alone for so long, Emmett. I'd thought perhaps he'd always be alone, but if Alice is right…."

"Wait. What?"

"Oh, my. Hasn't Rosalie told you?" Esme's eyes were excited now. "Alice sees the girl as one of us, with Edward!"

That was interesting. And possibly changed things. "She hadn't mentioned it."

Esme waved her hand as if to shoo away the thought. "Well, you know Rosalie. She's so fiercely protective of the family; she automatically opposes anything that might threaten us."

_Anything but me_, I thought ruefully.

"So. How long will you stay?"

"A few days, I think. You know it's hard for me to stay too long; I don't want to do anything to risk the treaty."

"Of course. It's very considerate of you, Emmett."

"It's the least I can do, Esme."

We both turned at the sound of tires on the gravel. The "kids" were home from school.

I went outside to greet them. I knew Rosalie wasn't expecting me until later, and I hoped the surprise of my early arrival would help us shield our plans from both Edward and Alice.

Rosalie didn't even wait for Edward to pull into the garage. She opened the rear passenger door while the car was still moving and was in my arms in an instant.

"Emmett, we weren't expecting you so soon," Alice said as she rounded the corner from the garage.

"It didn't take me as long to get here as I thought it would."

"That's great." Alice's eyes narrowed slightly, as if she were trying to focus. "Are you planning to stay long?"

"As long as Rose needs me."

"Speaking of which," Rose said, "let's go for a run."

Edward had joined us by then, and snorted out a short laugh.

"Hey, Edward," I greeted him as I slugged him lightly on the shoulder. "You doin' all right?"

He shrugged. "As well as can be expected."

"Yeah?" I smiled at him, and he smiled back.

"Go for your 'run.' We can catch up later."

Rosalie took my hand, and we sped off around the back side of the house. We kept running, deep into the forest, although with what everyone assumed we'd be doing, we were fairly certain no one would follow.

When we finally came to a stop, we did, in fact, do what everyone assumed we'd be doing, but as we lay entangled in one another in the snow that still dusted the mountains at this elevation, we got down to the true reason for my visit.

"I don't know, Rosalie," I said as I stared up at the darkening sky. "Esme told me that Alice saw the girl as one of us."

"Did Esme also tell you that Alice saw two possible outcomes?"

I turned my head to look at Rosalie and raised my eyebrows.

"In one outcome, yes, the girl is one of us. But in the other, Edward kills her. Do you know what that would do to the family? To Edward? The guilt would torment him, and in turn, would torment the rest of us."

"The guilt he'd feel over killing the one he loves."

"Esme told you that, too, huh?"

I nodded.

"Well, I'm not convinced. And neither is Edward. I don't know how Alice could possibly see that when Edward doesn't seem to have decided it."

"What's he doing about it?"

"Nothing, as usual. He's basically just ignored her for the past two days."

"And what's she done?"

Rosalie hesitated. "I have to admit, she hasn't said anything to anyone. Yet. But I can tell she's frustrated that Edward won't explain how he managed to save her from the runaway van. It's only a matter of time."

"You're sure?"

"Sure enough to be confident of the danger she poses to the family." She put her forearms on my chest and lifted herself up to look me in the eye. "Things are different here, Emmett, you know that. Her father spends a lot of time with the Quileutes. We cannot risk Edward breaking the treaty."

"I thought the wolves had died out."

"We're pretty sure they have, but Carlisle wants to honor the treaty anyway. We've been abiding by it since we returned, wolves or no."

"Edward will know it was me."

Rosalie shrugged.

"He might know you had a hand in it."

She shrugged again. "He'll thank me for it one day."

Later, after Rosalie and I said our goodbyes, I watched the unassuming girl through the lighted kitchen window. She was doing homework, but seemed distracted. Several times, she looked up, stared at nothing for a while, then shook her head and scowled back down at her papers.

The back door wasn't even locked.

The next time she looked up, she gasped, because instead of staring at nothing, she was staring at me.

"Hello," I said.

She gaped at me.

I took a deep breath in through my nose. "I know what he sees in you."

She finally found her voice. "Who— how— what _are_ you?"

In a flash, I had her out of her chair and restrained, her back to my chest. Her feet didn't even touch the ground. "Your worst nightmare. But I promise I'll be quick. You won't feel a thing."

I sank my teeth into the pulsating blue vein lying beneath the paper-thin skin of her neck. I didn't know whether to think Edward a fool or a saint for foregoing this blood; it was by far the sweetest I'd tasted in half a century.

It was over in minutes. I looked at the body in my arms, trying to imagine her as one of us, but couldn't. She was too soft, too fragile. This was for the best.

I glanced around the kitchen; there wasn't a thing out of place. I studied her homework for a moment, then ripped off a page of notebook paper and dashed out a quick note telling her father she had to run out for more painkillers.

I ran upstairs to empty the medicine cabinet of Tylenol, and was back down in a flash to grab her coat and keys, and finally, her body.

The cover of darkness would minimize the chances of anyone noticing that it was someone other than the girl driving her truck, but I slumped low in the seat and pulled my hood over my head to reinforce the illusion.

The curves on these roads were dangerous; everyone knew that. No one would be surprised to learn that even a truck this heavy, with new tires, had spun out on a slick road on a cold January evening.

And as I watched the truck burn, her body along with it, I was confident that I had covered my tracks well. The Cullens would be safe. Rosalie would be safe.

No one would know it was me.

I felt a familiar hand slip into mine.

"You'd better go," Rosalie said as she squeezed my hand. "Alice will have seen by now."

I nodded.

"Thank you." Rosalie kissed me, hard.

"Love you," I replied, then released her and ran.

* * *

**Up Tuesday am - Ladyinblue6 with an Emmett/Bella AH One Shot**


	5. One Shot from Ladyinblue6

**Penname: ladyinblue6  
Title: "You Belong With Me"  
Rating: T  
Pairing: Emmett and Bella  
Summary: Emmett and Bella have been best friends forever. Bella's also been in love with Emmett forever. Will Emmett finally accept the fact that he belongs with Bella?**

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The Swans and the Cullens had always been neighbours. At least for as long as Bella could remember. She could remember waking up in the morning and getting dressed as quickly as she could so she could play with Alice. She could remember walking to the bus with Alice; her twin brother, Edward; and their older brother, Emmett. She could remember falling out of the tree house in the Cullen's backyard and breaking her arm. She could remember Dr. Carlisle giving her a cast and Esme kissing it better.

Most of all, Bella remembered the things that involved Emmett. She could remember the first time she met him, when he called her a tomboy and she beat him up. She could remember looking for frogs and earthworms in puddles with him after it would finally stop raining. She could remember going to his Grandma Cullen's funeral and holding his hand while he tried not to cry. She could remember him comforting her when her mom left in the middle of the night. She could remember the first time she decided she loved Emmett.

The only thing Bella hadn't decided was when she was going to tell Emmett she loved him.

Alice, Edward, and Bella were all juniors now. Emmett, along with Rosalie and Jasper, the Hale twins, were seniors and gearing up for senior prom and graduation. Alice and Jasper had started dating when Alice was in grade seven and Jasper was in grade eight because Alice "knew they were meant for each other." The thing Bella didn't understand was why Jasper would sell his soul that early. Turns out, they were perfect for each other. Edward was dating Tanya Denali, the Russian exchange student, and Rosalie was taking a break from guys after a rough break up with Royce King, a boy from out of town.

Bella and Emmett's bedrooms faced each other, which worked out perfectly when they were young and it didn't matter if they caught one another changing too close to the window. They sent each other messages by writing on their magic erase boards and holding the sign up to the window. They still did that in high school.

One time Emmett caught Bella coming out of the shower when she was a freshman and he was a sophomore. She hadn't turned around, so he hadn't seen anything but her backside, but he couldn't help but stare. Bella had developed at an early age, much to her dismay and the pleasure of the male population at FHS. Emmett watched her put on her C-cup bra and her underwear with the cupcakes on them. He stared at her while she picked out a pair of jean short shorts and her favourite blue tank top and put them on. Then she turned around and screamed.

"Emmett! What the fuck are you doing?" she exclaimed, turning bright red.

"Just enjoying the view," he replied with a smirk, even though her scream made him jump.

"God, you're such a pig sometimes," she scoffed before pulling the blinds down so she could try to recover.

Bella sat down on her bed and put her head in her hands. At least she hadn't been dancing around like she usually did when she got out of the shower... She always remembered to close her blinds after that incident.

After a hectic and self-discovering freshmen year, Alice, Bella, and Edward all found their niches within the school. Alice was a cheerleader and quite obviously the most bubbly and friendly person in the school. Everyone loved Alice. Edward fell in with the jocks, automatically fitting in because of Jasper and Emmett. Bella still had her childhood friends, but she didn't quite fit in to the puzzle pieces of Forks. Once a tomboy, now a romantic, Bella wasn't quite sure of her place in the world. She liked to read; she liked music, but couldn't play; and she liked to draw, but wasn't willing to join the art club. So, she hung out by herself most of the time, finding a kindred spirit in Angela Weber, whom preferred the quiet conversations with Bella to the yelling matches that occurred with the rest of the people in her class.

Soon enough, however, Angela found someone to love. Someone that brought her out of her shell and forced her to become more social. Ben Cheney was a jock, just like Edward, Emmett, and Jasper, and when he took an interest in Angela, he forced her to sit with him at lunch, leaving Bella all alone in her corner. She didn't mind though. It gave her more time to lose herself in a book instead of facing the harsh reality of her social status.

Bella decided that she loved Emmett way back in elementary school and she hadn't wavered. Not even when Emmett made fun of her braces. Not even when Emmett ratted her out for stealing booze out of Dr. Cullen's liquor cabinet. Not even when Emmett started dating Lauren Mallory, a bodacious blonde cheerleader, the complete opposite of Bella.

"I can't believe he'd do that to you," Alice said while they walked home from the bus. They boys had football practice, so it was just the two of them.

"Do what, Alice?" Bella asked. "It's not like he even knows I like him like that. He certainly doesn't like me like that."

Alice rolled her eyes. "He's in love with you, Bella. And you don't show your love for him very well. You've been avoiding him since the beginning of the year when he made the football team."

"What am I supposed to do?" Bella questioned exasperatedly. "I don't fit in with that group, Al. I just...don't."

"Oh, please, Bella," Alice scoffed. "It's just us, plus a couple of meathead jocks and some cheerleaders."

"Like Lauren," Bella offered sullenly, looking down at her Converse clad feet.

Alice sighed. "Why don't you tell him, Bella? He'd drop her like an overpriced pair of jeans if he knew you were even the least bit interested."

Bella shook her head. "No, I'm not forcing myself on him when he's got a girlfriend."

"Whatever then. You're going to sit with us from now on, though," Alice told her with a sniff and a toss of her shoulder length hair. "Don't even bother fighting with me on this, Bella. I need someone somewhat normal at that table to keep me sane. I'm sick of talking about the jocks and cheerleaders that aren't at our table."

Bella giggled. "Alright, I'll sit with you."

Alice nudged her friend playfully with her shoulder. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow, Bell. Have fun relaxing while I catch up on all the homework I put off this weekend."

"I could help you," Bella offered.

"No," Alice said determinedly. "I'll text you if I have any major questions. Otherwise, I'm doing this myself. Fashion school isn't reachable if I just let my ingenious friend do all of my work for me."

Bella laughed. "Alright, I'll talk to you later, Al."

"Bye, Bella."

Lauren and Emmett continued to date. Bella helped Emmett through all the rough patches.

"Can you talk?" Emmett wrote on his magic erase board one night after he came home late in the night with a slam of his bedroom door.

Bella had been up, reading of course.

"Sure," she replied quickly in her black marker.

"Thank God. She said that I don't spend enough time with her."

"Weren't you just with her?"

"Yes. She freaks out over nothing! I don't get it!"

"Maybe she just wants to spend more time with you. You _do_ practice a lot for football."

"Well, whatever. She practices a lot for cheerleading, too."

"Just tell her that you'll spend more time with her once the season's over."

"That might not be until the end of the month, though!"

"C'mon, Emmett. Let's be realistic."

Bella could see Emmett laughing at her note.

"Okay, so we suck. I just don't want to give into her."

Bella sighed. _Maybe that's because you're not right for each other,_ she thought to herself.

"Isn't that what dating is all about? Compromise?"

"How would you know?"

Bella scowled before scribbling. "Ouch. Watch it, douche bag."

She could see him sigh and run his hands through his hair.

"I'm sorry. I'm coming over. Open your window."

Ever since Emmett got tall enough to reach the tree that was partially in front of Bella's window, he'd come over for late night talks, sometimes spending the night in Bella's bed with her until her alarm clock went off. Those were Bella's favourite nights. She always slept the best then. They hadn't had a sleepover in a long time. Not since the end of the summer before he began high school and got distracted by his new friends and the new girls.

Bella opened her window and grabbed Emmett's hand to help him into her house without making too much noise. Her dad, the Chief of Police, was not above shooting Emmett. In fact, Charlie sort of despised Emmett. Ever since Emmett accidentally set off the house alarm one night when he tried to sneak into Bella's room, he'd been in Charlie's bad books.

"I really am sorry," Emmett apologized, making it sound more heartfelt now that he was in Bella's room.

"Whatever," Bella mumbled, still a little hurt from the comment. She crawled into her bed, marked her page in her book, and shut off the lamp before moving over far enough for Emmett to fit in.

They faced each other in the bed.

"Why don't we hang out anymore, Bee?" Emmett asked her quietly, closing his eyes already.

"I don't know. You've got friends outside of our little group that I don't know or want to know," Bella murmured, closing her eyes as well.

"We're still best friends, right?" he asked.

"Best friends for-fucking-ever," Bella replied with a smile. "Don't think you can get rid of me so easily, Cullen."

"I wouldn't even think of such a thing," Emmett mumbled with a half smile before drifting off to sleep in Bella's bed.

Emmett woke up the next morning at 5:30 a.m. to the sound of the birds chirping in the same tree he'd used to crawl into the room the night before. It had been a while since Emmett had slept so well. He'd forgotten how comfortable Bella's bed was. How comfortable he was around Bella herself.

He sighed. He wasn't ready to leave this yet. He wished this was how he woke up every day, his best friend and quite possibly his soul mate by his side, cuddled up to him and curled into his side, fitting perfectly, like the other piece to the puzzle.

_Why am I dating Lauren?_ Emmett asked himself as he gazed at Bella, who was squinting in her sleep, like she always did. Then he remembered that he couldn't risk his friendship with Bella. It was much too valuable to him. If he fucked this up, he'd have no one else to laugh with at his stupid jokes. He'd have no one to run to when things weren't exactly as they should be. He'd have no one to obsess over, no one to chase in secret, no one to love from a distance... Yeah, dating Bella would fuck everything that Emmett knew up.

"Don't leave," Bella whispered before Emmett even began to think about leaving.

Emmett smiled at the familiarity. He'd forgotten that Bella talked in her sleep.

"I'm not leaving yet," Emmett murmured into her hair.

Bella snuggled further into him, her hands clutching his t-shirt. "Good."

Emmett chuckled before dozing off again.

Bella was having the most amazing dream. Emmett and she were at the beach in La Push when he said, "I love you." He was going to say more, but when he opened his mouth all that came out was, "Beep! Beep! Beep!"

"Wake up, Bella," someone murmured in her ear.

"What? No, sleepin'," Bella mumbled tiredly. "Lea'me alone."

The person chuckled, the vibrations shaking Bella slightly. "C'mon, we'll both be late for school if you don't let go of me."

Bella shot up, pulling Emmett with her. She looked down at her hands, which were clutching Emmett's shirt tightly, and then up at Emmett, who was wearing an amused expression. She held on for a beat longer before letting go quickly and running her hands over her face and through her hair.

"Christ, I haven't slept that well since before I started high school," Bella muttered to herself, trying not to doze off again against her wall.

"I know, me too," Emmett replied, reluctantly standing up, wishing he had the balls to tell Bella the reason why he'd slept so good. "Hey, why don't I drive you to school? It doesn't make sense for you to take the bus now that I've got my Jeep, eh?"

Bella rolled her eyes. "Sure, Mr. Big Shot. Take me to school in your fancy Jeep. But, if you make me take the bus after today, I'll probably kill you. Once you offer this to me, I'm not going to let you take the offer back."

Emmett chuckled before sighing dramatically. "Fine, I guess I could drive you to school every day from now on. It'll be such a hassle. You're so far out of the way."

Bella laughed. "Sorry to be an inconvenience to you, Emmett, but that's how it's going to be from now on."

"Be ready by twenty after, 'kay?" Emmett told her as he climbed out of the window and onto the tree branch. He gave her a quick, crooked smile. "And don't tell your dad I spent the night. He'll have my balls on a platter if he finds out."

"Your secret's safe with me," Bella promised with a smile.

Emmett smiled again before climbing back into the Cullen house and heading for the shower to jack off before going to school. Bella hadn't worn a bra to bed, and her boobs were looking particularly wonderful when she woke up in the morning.

Bella sighed before hauling herself out of her room and into the bathroom to get ready for another mediocre day at school.

There weren't many bumps in Emmett and Lauren's relationship after they started having sex. Emmett had been a virgin before Lauren came along and was excited to explore this new section of his life with a beautiful cheerleader.

Bella started hanging out with Alice more often now that her cheerleading days were over for the year. Rosalie even started warming up to the two of them after she got over her nasty break-up with Royce.

Unfortunately, Emmett was told to avoid Bella by Lauren.

"Honey, I just don't want her to get any ideas," Lauren explained when he asked why he should stop hanging out with his best friend.

"What do you mean, ideas?" Emmett scowled at his girlfriend. Bella was his best friend. How could he just stop hanging out with her?

"I think she has a crush on you," Lauren stated matter-of-factly.

Emmett looked down at the ground, still scowling. "Really?" he asked weakly. He had no idea if it was true or not. He couldn't deny the little flip flop his stomach did when Lauren said that. He couldn't ignore the fact that he felt giddy and excited by this piece of information.

Lauren nodded. "But, I know you only see her as a friend. I know you would never want to wreck that friendship you have with her. It'd be best if you just kept your distance for a while, just so she has some time to get over you before things get out of hand."

"You're right," Emmett murmured with a nod. He couldn't risk that friendship. He needed Bella to be his friend until the end, and if that meant staying away from her for a while, he'd do it. "Thanks, babe."

So, Emmett avoided Bella for a while, only talking to her occasionally. Sometimes it was just a smile and a nod in the hallway, other times it was a quick conversation. They were falling further and further apart, and neither of them could handle it.

"I just don't get it," Bella sighed as they got ready for Emmett's grad party in Alice's room. "We were best friends. What the hell happened?"

"Lauren happened," Alice replied as she poked her earrings through. "She's practically running his life now. I swear, pretty soon he's going to start asking her if he's allowed to breathe or not."

Bella giggled and then sobered quickly. "I miss him."

Alice smiled at her sympathetically, rubbing her back soothingly while Bella blinked back tears. "He'll be back."

"Sooner rather than later," Bella said hopefully with a smile.

Emmett's grad party was bigger than had been anticipated by Dr. and Mrs. Cullen. Most of the senior and junior classes came to the house, as well as many parents and family friends from Forks. Bella drank too many screwdrivers while she watched Emmett and Lauren interact with the guests. Alice ran around, helping Esme keep the party under control. Edward got drunk before supper and passed out in his truck for a while before going back to the house, finding Tanya, and locking his bedroom door for a while and then returning to the party. Jasper followed Alice around, trying to help as much as possible. Emmett pretended to not notice Bella, even though he was watching her drink her face off out of the corner of his eye.

Finally the party died down at around ten o'clock in the evening. All that was left were the Cullens, the Hales, and Bella. Charlie, Dr. Cullen, and Esme had all went into the house to begin cleaning, leaving their kids to cherish the night for a while longer.

Bella was clearly the drunkest of the group. It wasn't the first time she'd drank, but it was the drunkest she'd ever been. The rest of the group was taking advantage of it.

"Hey, Bella, do you remember that time Mike Newton tried pulling the moves on you?" Edward asked.

"Ick, yes," Bella replied with a disgusted look on her face.

"He told everyone that you were a lesbian after that."

Bella was dumbfounded. "You're kidding."

"Nope," Edward said with a grin. "And you haven't really proved that theory wrong yet. So, maybe you'd be willing to make out with one of us guys tonight, just so we know you're not actually a lesbo?"

"What? No," Bella automatically responded, even though she'd be more than willing to crawl on Emmett's lap and kiss his lips, and maybe–

"C'mon," Edward encouraged. "It doesn't have to a porn show, just a quick, little French kiss."

Bella was suddenly determined. Mike Newton had no right to call her a lesbian. Just 'cause he was a skeazy grease-ball didn't mean she wasn't into guys.

"Fine. Which one of you idiots is it gunna be?"

Edward was about to raise his hand when Rosalie elbowed him in the ribs, causing him to cough.

"Can't be me. We're practically related," Edward said, even though he wouldn't have minded a little make-out session with her.

"Not me," Jasper murmured with a shake of his head. "Alice's the only girl I've kissed and I plan on keeping it that way."

Bella sighed. Of course this had to be done the hard way. Of course they'd make her make-out with Emmett.

"I guess you're stuck with me," Emmett said half-heartedly after seeing Bella sigh disappointingly. He was actually excited by the prospect, but Bella didn't seem too happy about it.

"Your girlfriend won't mind?" Bella asked.

Emmett shrugged with a smile. "What she doesn't know won't hurt her."

Everyone laughed. They were all rooting for Bella. It wasn't that they didn't like Lauren, because they did, they just wanted Bella and Emmett to be together so that it would complete their group. Childhood friends turned best friends turned lovers. That was how it was supposed to be.

Bella stood up and wiped her clammy hands on her jeans before walking over to where Emmett was leaning against a tree.

"You ready for the best kiss of your life, Cullen," Bella whispered once she got closer, teasing him so her nerves wouldn't get the best of her.

Emmett smirked, even though on the inside he was reeling at her words. "Bring it, Swan."

Bella stood on her tiptoes, a determined look on her face, and pressed her lips to Emmett's before sinking back to the ground, bringing Emmett with her. He followed her eagerly, catching her face between his hands, his nose brushing against her cheek as he moved to side to get better access to her lips. His tongue separated her lips, brushing inside her mouth, finding her tongue and massaging it gently with his own.

Edward gave a short whistle, waking them up from their lust-filled daydream. Bella fell back on her heels, leaving Emmett wondering what the fuck just happened between the two of them.

"That was _awesome!_" Edward exclaimed. "Do it again, but let me videotape this time. I could sell that shit to the freshmen so they have something to jack off to. Make-out sessions are better than porn for those little fuckers."

"Ew, Edward, you're so disgusting," Bella scoffed as she returned to her seat on unsteady legs.

Emmett was still replaying the kiss over and over in his head, trying to compare it to any other kiss he'd shared with any other girl and coming up with blanks. There was nothing to compare it to. Bella wasn't lying when she told Emmett it would be the best kiss of his life.

Ten minutes later, Bella passed out in her lawn chair.

"Dude, you have to carry her home," Edward said after they tried, and failed, to wake her up. "You were the last one to kiss her."

Emmett rolled her eyes. "You're such a lazy ass."

Edward nudged his brother playfully. "Whatever, loser. I'm giving you the opportunity of a lifetime. The girl of your dreams is passed out. Take advantage of that shit." Edward winked at his older brother.

While smiling and shaking his head, Emmett picked Bella up bridal-style and began walking to her house. Charlie let Emmett in the front door with only a nod and brief half-smile.

Emmett took Bella upstairs and set her in her bed, pulling off her shoes and socks for her.

"Are you staying?" Bella mumbled, barely able to open her eyes.

"No, I can't tonight," Emmett told her. "I walked in the front door. Your dad would notice if I didn't go back downstairs tonight."

Bella laughed tiredly. "Makes sense."

"I'll see you around, Bella," Emmett murmured, kissing her forehead.

"Mm," Bella hummed, nodding and waving him away.

Emmett stood in the doorway for a beat, looking at his drunken best friend, wondering if he was making the right choice in walking away.

Prom was coming up quickly. Since Jasper, Emmett, and Rosalie all wanted their junior friends at their senior prom, they decided to make sacrifices. Jasper would have Alice as his date, Emmett would take Bella, and Rosalie invited Edward. That way they could spend the night together.

Everyone agreed that that was the best. Lauren, on the other hand, disagreed with the popular opinion. She wanted Emmett to take her to prom. She didn't understand the dynamics of the little group that had been together since the beginning.

The weekend before prom, Bella watched Emmett pace his room while he was on the phone. She assumed it was Lauren, but she couldn't be positive. Whoever it was, he was yelling at them. He looked irate. He kept running his free hand through his hair. Finally he hung up the phone with an angry shake of his head and a curse that Bella could hear.

"You okay?" Bella wrote on her magic erase board, holding it up and waiting for Emmett to notice.

He looked up moments later and smiled slightly. "Not entirely. I just broke up with Lauren."

"Why?"

"She's selfish. And shallow. And not the person I thought she was."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

That was the only interaction the two of them had all week. Bella was busy decorating for prom with Alice and Angela, and Emmett was busy getting ready for his senior prom along with being angry at himself for wasting a year of his life and thinking about how he was going to tell Bella that he loved her.

Bella tried not to get her hopes up. She didn't think that Emmett would automatically turn to her now that he and Lauren were done. In fact, she didn't think Emmett even liked her that much. She was content with just being his friend.

But, she was still devastated when she found Lauren and Emmett making out by his car after school on Friday.

"I can't come tomorrow. I'm sorry," Bella automatically texted Alice.

"Y not, b?"

"Emmett."

"He bein a dick?"

"No. I should've expected this. I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry about it, baby girl. I wish u'd come tho. It'd b good 4 u."

"We'll see."

"K."

Bella cried on Friday night, making sure her blinds were completely closed. She didn't want Emmett to know that she was crying over him. She didn't want to see Emmett at all, in fact.

She ignored everyone's calls on Saturday morning. Alice must have told everyone the news after she woke up, because after eleven a.m., the texts and calls stopped coming. Bella continued to lay in bed and pity herself, occasionally reading a chapter of her book or trying to write a bit of her history essay.

By six o'clock that evening, Bella was in control of her emotions again. She was no longer crying. She no longer cared. She just didn't want to make a big scene at prom. She knew her friends would have more fun without her there moping around.

The curtains were pulled away from her window and she decided that a good little dance session was needed for her to feel completely normal again. Bella cranked up her iPod and started dancing around her room, jumping on her bed and singing the lyrics to her favourite songs as loudly as she could.

Emmett had been getting ready for prom. Alice told him that Bella wasn't going, and that made him reconsider going. After all, the only reason he was going was to be close to Bella.

All Alice said was that Bella wasn't going. She hadn't said a reason why, but she had glared at Emmett the entire time. Emmett guessed it had something to do with him. He had no idea what he did, but apparently he was at fault. Unless Bella had seen Lauren kiss him after school the day before. Lauren thought that she and Emmett should give it another shot. Emmett pushed her away quite quickly, telling her that he was interested in someone else. That someone being Bella.

So, when Emmett saw Bella dancing around her room, he couldn't help but to smile and watch. He already had his message written on his whiteboard, he just had to wait until she noticed him watching her.

Bella was singing her favourite song when she saw Emmett smiling and watching her. She blushed a deep red before hopping off her bed and waving at her friend.

Emmett waved back and held up his board. "You going tonight?"

"No," Bella wrote back.

"Why not?"

"Homework."

Emmett scowled. Edward and Alice didn't have that much homework.

"That sucks."

Bella nodded, trying to look sad. "Have fun."

"It'd be more fun if you were there."

Bella blinked back tears. Why did he have to be so sweet yet so hurtful?

"Bye, Emmett."

Emmett sighed and waved at her before leaving his room hopping in Jasper's truck to go to the school to pretend that he was having a good time.

Bella laid on her bed and stared at the dress she was going to wear to prom. It was knee length, royal blue, and very becoming on her pale skin. It was strapless and flowy and it suited Bella perfectly. She had actually been excited to wear it for the night, along with her little black flats.

She sighed while she thought about all the fun her friends would be having without her.

"Fuck it," Bella murmured to herself, standing up and stripping. She pulled her dress on and quickly made her hair presentable and applied some makeup.

"I'm going to prom!" Bella yelled as she slipped her flats on. "See you later!"

"Have fun," Charlie replied.

Bella hopped in her truck and rushed to prom as quickly as her old vehicle would allow her. She parked and jogged into the school, signing in and walking into the room.

All eyes were on her as she searched for her group. No one had seen Bella in anything but her jeans and sweaters. It was a welcome change, and change that got her noticed by everyone at the prom.

Bella saw Alice, who waved her over, grinning widely at her friend.

"You look gorgeous, Bella!" Alice exclaimed as Bella approached her and Jasper. "I'm so glad you came!"

"Me too," Bella replied with a smile. "Where's Emmett? I have to tell him something."

Alice giggled. "Rosalie made him get a picture with her."

Bella laughed. "I'm sure Emmett appreciated that."

"I didn't," Emmett said from behind her. Bella whipped around, smiling at him. "You finished your homework, I see."

"No, I didn't," Bella admitted. "I just realized some things are more important."

"Oh, like what?" Emmett asked with a smile.

Bella looked at him through her eyelashes before saying, "Like telling you I love you."

Emmett took a step towards her. "That is pretty important."

She nodded, looking at the floor and their almost-touching feet, blushing.

"I love you, too," Emmett murmured.

Bella looked up at him, smiling, tears in her eyes. "Really?"

"Really," Emmett repeated, grinning.

Bella wrapped her arms around Emmett's neck and crashed her lips against his. She always knew that he belonged with her.

* * *

**Tonight, a drabble from whatsmynomdeplume**


	6. Drabble from Whatsmynomdeplume

**Title**: A Man's Man

**Author**: WhatsMyNomdeplume

**Words**: 965

**A/n**: Thanks to Hmonster4 for betaing!

* * *

Emmett McCarty is a man's man.

He's everything a man should be. He's tall—6'5 and large (240 lbs. of all muscle, damn straight.)

He's an athlete—he played tight end for his college football team until tearing his ACL. He's even a star—before his injury, his team enjoyed an undefeated season.

He's funny, he's a great drinking buddy, he's a good spotter at the gym and the most awesome wingman any guy could want.

All in all, Emmet is the definition of the ideal man. He's got it all.

So why, as he sits across the table from where Edward Cullen has one hand high up Rosalie Hale's thigh and she's got her lips on—and is that? Yes it is, her tongue _in_ his ear—does Emmett feel at such a loss?

Why does he look at her, smile full of sly, sexy secrets that only Edward knows, and feel like even in this crowded bar he is absolutely alone? Even with two of his best friends, even with that blonde in the corner giving him the eye.

The blonde in front of him, however, only has eyes for the man next to her. Rosalie Hale is undeniably stunning. In fact, she is all that is woman in a similar way to how Emmett is man. With her long, blond hair and her longer, sexy legs, her tight waist and tighter ass, she's irresistible. Why _wouldn't_ Edward go for her?

Emmett remembers the night he and Edward met Rosalie. They were waiting at the bar for a drink, and right between them barreled some girl who could put Jolie at her peak to shame, grabbing the bartender's full attention and stealing their till-then patient place in line. Almost in slow motion, he watched Edward turn, ready to spew some righteous nonsense about manners as Edward was prone to do, and instead take one, two, three glances. First at chest, but the second and third were at her face for it was that captivating. Then he spewed some righteous nonsense anyway, and if Emmett thought Rosalie was beautiful at first glance, she was stunning at first argumentative words. Edward never stood a chance.. He watched the two of them spark and spar, fight and flirt, and even _he_, a third party observer, could see how right they were together. His eyes flitted from one to the other, feeling like an intruder even as Edward, ever loyal, turned to Emmett and cracked a comment to him and all three twined their laughter.

And from then on, it was the three of them. Of course, there were times when it was just him and Edward. Edward was too good a friend and Emmett meant too much to him to let some girl get in the way. Except that this wasn't some girl, this was _the_ girl and he always knew Edward was longing for Rose. That left Emmett longing, too, for simpler times. Times when the awareness that everything he wanted was in someone else's hand.

It only got worse, even as it appeared to get better. Rosalie enchanted him, to the point that she became as much of a best friend as Edward. Where she roused and aroused Edward, always butting heads with him, she and Em were partners-in-crime, co-conspirators. All the habits that Emmett poked fun at Edward for—his disgustingly large collection of books, those terrible horn-rimmed reading glasses, that fugly tan leather jacket he owned—were Rosalie's favorite things to bring up. He and Rosalie are so similar in so many ways that it makes perfect sense Edward would be attracted to her. That only hurts more.

Emmett finds himself lit up by the two of them and extinguished at the same time. Even now, where they are so clearly a couple and he's just… there, he knows that were he to say something, they'd straighten out and apologize. Rosalie would move her leg of Edward's lap and Edward would emerge from the cloud of lust he's fogged in and they'd have fun. It's not like this most nights—Emmett is hardly ever a third wheel. But most nights, he has to see Edward and Rosalie disappear together as he goes home alone, or worse, with a stranger, and everything, everyone, the only one he really wants is living in someone else's bedroom, in someone else's arms.

Emmett wants to stop watching Edward with Rosalie, he wants to look away and forget it, forget them. He wants to be nonchalant about his best friend falling hard and fast for this beautiful woman who is perfect for him, he wants not to care.

He wants to be the type of man that takes his best friend settling down in stride, the type of man that hangs out with Rosalie and Edward without these _feelings, _and then goes out and has his own fun with that blonde at the pool table. He wants desperately not to be in love.

Because he shouldn't, couldn't, isn't, won't, _can't_ be in love with Edward.

Real men don't love other men. He's known this since his father told him this as a young boy, since his coach emphasized it, since society drilled it into his head over and over again.

But at the end of the night, as Edward and Rosalie say goodbye to him and walk out in the cold dark wrapped up in the warmth of each other, as Emmett turns back to his the ice melting away into nothingness in his scotch, as he allows himself a singular, lone moment to feel how he _really_ feels and not how he thinks he should, he thinks:

_He doesn't really want to be what a man is supposed to be.  
_  
Not if it is this lonely.


	7. Drabble from DameNellie

**The Graduate**

**Pen name:**DameNellie

**Rating:**K

**Summary:**Emmett McCarty the human never even dreamed of going to college. Emmett the vampire learns that every opportunity is there for the taking. Canon, Pre-Twilight.

**AN:** Thanks to Lisa for her valuable feedback, although she hasn't seen the final version so any lingering errors are mine. Thanks to HMonster4, AccioBourbon and TheHeartOfLife for organizing this Emmett-fest and letting me contribute.

* * *

Emmett McCarty had never been much into school. In his hometown and in his family, education didn't mean much. Growing up in the Appalachian mountains, he had always been more interested in the outdoors than in books and school work. He grew up under the shadow of the Great Depression and he knew the most important thing for a man was to make a good living. He had never been very good at school work; he was much better with his hands. Besides, the McCartys couldn't afford the luxury of educating their sons - it seemed a waste to spend hours in class struggling to understand about math and poetry when they could be out earning money for the family. So Emmett had left school at 14 and started an apprenticeship with his father.

The family had moved to Gatlinburg, Tennessee in the mid 1930s, to take advantage of the building boom that had been kick-started when the vast wilderness of the Smoky Mountains had been declared a National Park in 1934. For the first time since the Great Crash, the living seemed easy. There was plenty of work for the McCarty boys, building new hotels and houses for the scores of tourists coming to sample the great outdoors. Emmett felt all the freedom and expectation of youth. He spent weekends in the woods with his brothers, hiking and hunting. One of their neighbour's sons had come home with a bear after one trip. They'd strapped it up onto a sturdy branch and hauled all the way back into town to show off. From that point on, Emmett had been obsessed with hunting bears. And it was this very thing that got him killed in the end.

In his second life, as a vampire, he had done well at school. He found he had more of an interest in the subjects now that he found them easier to comprehend. To his surprise, he found that he enjoyed subjects like math, physics and chemistry - subjects he thought were only for 'squares'. He even found he had a new apreciation for poetry, now that he understood all the words and could easily recite his favourite passages from memory. He read _The Road Not Taken_ and thought back to his last day as a human in the woods with his brothers. Just like Frost, he had taken the lesser worn path. At the time, he had merely been tracking bear. But he realised how taking that different route than his brothers had changed everything for him. He never knew words could capture life so well.

When Carlisle suggested college to him, he was initially reluctant. It was something he'd never even considered for himself. He wondered how he'd fit in with all those academic types. He wondered if he'd been out of place among the sons of Captains of Industry – he, a poor boy from the backwoods of Tennessee. But as Carlisle pointed out, he wasn't that kid anymore. He would be older in years than the rest of his classmates and he'd have seen much more of the world.

So, in the Fall of 1947, he started his first undergraduate degree at Dartmouth College. His new intelligence made it easier for him, although he still had to work hard to achieve his near-perfect scores. But he relished the challenge. For the first time since he became a vampire – no, in his whole existence - he felt like he was really achieving something. In fact, he was so excited about his college experience that he'd initially had trouble remaining aloof from the other students. He wished that he'd been able to participate in football and fraternities. Ultimately, though, he knew that he needed to keep a low profile, however much that went against his natural conviviality.

Instead, he threw himself into his studies. Even though he knew he had this new vampire intelligence to thank, he was excited to be using it. Of course, understanding came easily for him now and he had a photographic memory but he still needed to apply himself. He'd always had a hands-on, practical sort of intelligence. However, when it came to project proposals and essays, he had found it hard to order his ideas in an academic way. He knew the answers; he had the vocabulary. But it still took some getting used to before he was able to put it all together and make it coherent and thorough.

After an initial adjustment, though, he thrived. He loved having something that was entirely his. He couldn't rival Carlisle in wisdom. He could rival Edward in music or literature. In Engineering and Physics, however, he could hold his own. He threw himself into extra-curricular projects to keep his mind buzzing through the long night hours. He bonded with Esme over architectural projects. He helped design faster engines for Rosalie's cars. He felt, once more, the excitement and passion of youth, and this time not just for his wife.

At the end of his four years at Dartmouth, as he stood to collect his Bachelor degree summa cum laude, he felt bloated with pride. His success had been about more than hard work and good grades. He'd learnt to exist on his own for the first time in his life. He'd sought and found that delicate balance with the humans between camraderie and intimacy. And he'd learnt that despite where he'd come from, what his former life had been, that this new life gave him endless possibilities. He might never have a traditional job. He might be bound to repeat the cycle of high school endlessly. But he was no longer limited by his intelligence. He could choose to learn, to improve, to contribute. It still surprised him. It made him grin too.


	8. One Shot from Manywords

**Name: **Manywords

**Title: **Kiss Me, Rose

**Rating: **T

**Pairing: **Emmett and Rosalie

**Summary:** What happens when Emmett and Rosalie decide to take part in the school play?

**A/N:** Thank you very, very much to Hmonster4 for the beta! And thank you to AccioBourbon, Hmonster4 or Theheartoflife for allowing me to participate in the 30 Days of Emmett. This has been a lot of fun!

* * *

**_1973 Astoria, Oregon_**

In my defense, _she_ started it. Carlisle and Esme had moved our little family to yet another dreary town in the Pacific Northwest. We'd just enrolled in yet another forgettable high school. Now we would have to endure yet another couple years of pretending to be human teenagers.

Rose and I were in the school library during a free period, arguing about whether or not I should carry her books to class.

"Asses are made to bear, and so are you." Rose's voice was sharp as she challenged me. Now, most of the family would think that I wouldn't get the reference, but my Rose knows me better than that. I actually liked Shakespeare and 'Taming of the Shrew' was one of my favorite plays.

"Come, come, you wasp; i' faith, you are too angry." I pressed her back against the bookshelf in the back corner, my arms on either side of her head. Her feathered blonde hair brushed against the muscles of my forearm.

"If I be waspish, best beware my sting." She wound one hand up in to my short, curly hair and slid her hand down my chest and around to my hip. I growled softly at the exquisite feel of her touch. Then she dug her nails into my marble hard skin and yanked back on my hair, nearly pulling me off balance. I staggered back a step before pushing her against the bookshelf. It shook with the impact and a book fell off and hit the ground. We ignored it.

"My remedy is then, to pluck it out." I bent my head and kissed her hard. I dropped my hands to her ass and pulled her hips to mine. She kissed me back, winding her arms around my neck. I had to remind myself – several times – that we were in public before I could pull back from her. She smiled wickedly at me, then sobered.

"Do you mind it, Em?" she asked. "I know I'm a bitch sometimes."

"You lie, in faith," I whispered Shakespeare's words to her, moving my mouth from her lips to her ear, "for you are call'd plain Rose, and bonny Rose and sometimes Rose the curst; but Rose, the prettiest Rose in Christendom, Rose of Rose Hall, my super-dainty Rose, for dainties are all Roses."

She laughed and I swear I could feel my heart squeeze in my chest at the sound, though that organ had been dead for thirty-eight years. I bent my head and captured her lips in a kiss, thrusting my tongue into her mouth. She moaned and rocked her hips into mine.

"Mr. Cullen, Ms. Hale!" Our English teacher's voice was shocked. I groaned and leaned my forehead against Rosalie's for a moment. I pulled back, dropping my arms to my side. Only my never-ending obsession with my beautiful wife could distract me so much that I didn't hear him come up on us. Now, though, I could hear his heartbeat and the soft woosh of his lungs as they pumped air in and out.

"Yes, Mr. Toomey?" Rose's voice was innocent. Well, as innocent as my vixen could sound. Toomey's eyes narrowed and he paused, obviously changing his mind about what he was going to say.

"Were you just quoting Shakespeare?" His dark eyebrows were furrowed over dark eyes. Rose and I shared a look. If I could have I'd have blushed. I'd rather he yelled at us for necking.

"Yes." My voice went up at the end, turning it into a question.

"Your… er, family is new to this school, isn't it?" Toomey fiddled with the wide plaid tie he wore, running the fabric between his fingers before tucking it back under his blazer. Rose and I looked at each other again. She sighed, inaudible to human ears.

"Yes, sir." I smiled, trying to be charming. "We just moved here from Los Angeles."

"Have you ever thought about auditioning for the school play?" I blinked. Had I heard him right? Of course I had, but…

"The school play?" I parroted.

"Yes, Mr. Cullen, the school play. We're doing 'Taming of the Shrew' and we desperately need some strong actors in the lead roles." Rose stepped forward, pushing me behind her.

"The leads?" Rosalie was fascinated.

Aw, shoot.

"Rose, I really don't think that's a good idea." Her bell-bottom jeans swung against my calf as she stomped my foot. I hissed in pain and she smirked back at me. "I dunno if Esme and Carlisle would approve."

"What, participating in the extracurricular activities of our new school?" Her voice was honey sweet and I knew right then I'd lost the argument, completely and totally. I'd been with her for nearly forty years and I had come to recognize _that _tone of voice.

"Well, if your, um, p- parents," he stuttered over the word, his eyes darting back and forth between us, "have any questions they're welcome to call me."

Rosalie waved her hand, dismissing the concern. "When do we start?"

We'd asked for a family meeting to discuss our decision to audition for the school play. We sat at the dining room table and laid out our case for taking part in the play. Carlisle and Esme had been confused but supportive. Jasper was baffled as to why we'd want to interact with the humans so much. Alice had been thrilled with the idea until her visions had told her she couldn't audition without drawing too much attention to our family. Edward, of course, didn't think it was a good idea.

"You'll be in close proximity to them for long periods of time. Someone is bound to notice." Edward frowned.

I rolled my eyes. "So? What's the harm? I mean, some gossipy kids, a few photographs in some nothing town. We can stay away for a century or so. Big deal."

"I don't see anything bad happening," Alice chimed in. "Well, at least nothing if it's just them." She pouted prettily and I reached out and chucked her under the chin.

"Aw, maybe next time midget." She slapped my hand away, nearly knocking me out of my chair. I laughed and she winked back at me.

Edward still looked dubious. He crossed his arms over his chest, pulling the black turtleneck he was wearing tight across his shoulders.

"This is ridiculous." Rosalie's voice was sharp. She locked eyes with Edward and scowled back at him. "It's not like we're taking an ad out in Variety. We're doing a school play. It won't hurt the family."

Rosalie cocked her head to one side and gazed steadily at Edward. She had a small line between her eyebrows that meant she was thinking hard. I looked away and met Carlisle's eyes. He and I shared an uneasy look as she obviously added something she didn't want the rest of us to hear. I wasn't sure what she was saying, but Edward finally looked away, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers.

"Fine. I drop my objection. Have fun. Go… participate." His voice was sour as he spat out the final word. He stalked away and it wasn't long before we could all hear him attacking his piano down in the rumpus room. He really must have been pissed; he was pounding out a Prokofiev sonata. If he wasn't careful he'd break the thing.

"Well, for what it's worth you have our blessing." Carlisle nodded and he and Esme drifted away from the table. Jasper and Alice followed, their eyes locked on each other.

I tipped my chair back and watched Rosalie. For a while I just admired her beauty. Long blonde hair feathered over her ears, large topaz eyes, sweet pink lips pursed in thought. She sat staring out the window that looked on the Clatsop Forest.

"Come on, Rosie. What's eating you?" I kept my voice low, though I knew everyone in the house could hear me anyway.

"I just want to… see what it's like. See if I can remember what it felt like to be – human." She looked away, her lips tight. I could tell she wasn't telling me the truth, but I let it go. She'd tell me in her own time. Besides, if we were going to be up close and personal with the theatre dorks tomorrow we'd better do some hunting.

"Come on, Rose. Let's go find us some bears." I leaned in and kissed her on the corner of her mouth. "Or maybe I'll just have to find something else to eat."

She laughed and was out the door before I was out of my chair. I chased after her, a grin on my lips.

"If that be jest, then all the rest was so." Rosalie's voice was wickedly sharp and I listened for the slap that she was to give her "sister" in the play. The sound was just a stagehand clapping, but Rose made it look good.

"Brr…" The girl playing Bianca shivered theatrically. "Your hands are cold Rosalie. I know the boys all call you a cold fish, but that's taking it a bit far, isn't it?"

Rosalie tensed and I thought for a minute she was going to hit the girl for real, but she just turned away from the little bitch and walked off the stage. I wanted to jump on the stage and strangle the wretch, but I was in the back of the auditorium talking to Mr. Toomey about my costume. I wasn't supposed to have heard.

Tonight was opening night and everyone was worked up one way or another. My biggest problem had been pretending not to have the play memorized entirely. Forgetting a line here or there, missing my blocking occasionally. That is until Susan Delaney had been cast in the role of Bianca.

The girl had immediately decided that I was her heart's desire and would stop at nothing to get what she wanted. She'd flirted and asked me out. She completely ignored the fact that I'd turned her down cold. I'd thought it was funny until I'd seen Rosalie's face.

After that I'd done my best to keep out of Susan's way. Unfortunately, ignoring her had only inspired Susan to change her tactics. Now she was harassing Rosalie, trying to make Rose's life miserable.

"Mister Toomey?" Susan called out, her voice syrupy sweet. "Rosalie left in the middle of the scene. Should we have her understudy run the lines with me? Or if she doesn't come back I could do Katharina – I know all the lines."

I growled under my breath. I may have been a little loud. Mr. Toomey took a step away from me.

"Eh, she left? Why?" He looked down at his clipboard as if it would answer.

"I don't know, sir. Maybe Emmett could say because he's more used to her unpredictable mood swings than I am." Susan flipped her short, dark hair over her shoulder and smiled at me. I kept my face neutral, though I wanted to break her in half.

"Strange," I replied, loud enough for everyone else on stage to hear. "She only reacts that way when someone's been a total dipstick. Did someone say something rude?"

I could see her flush from here. I grinned at her discomfort.

"Now, now. We're all family here. A big theatre family." Mr. Toomey bustled up to the edge of the stage. "Why don't we go ahead and break for the afternoon? We all know our lines and we need to be fresh for tonight!"

Rosalie walked out on the stage, already changed out of her costume and back into her burgundy pantsuit. I watched those long legs move in the flowing material and had to swallow hard. My girl had some gams on her. I hurried up to the edge of the stage, ignoring Susan as she smiled at me, and swung Rosalie down off the edge.

"Be back in a minute, babe. Don't let the turkey get to you, 'kay?" She smiled up at me and I kissed the tip of her nose before heading off to change. I was glad of it – tights and a tunic weren't my idea of cool clothes.

We bowed a second time as the curtain closed in front of us. I saw the rest of the family in the audience. I waved to them as the curtains swished shut. I saw Edward grimace and grinned to myself. That boy needed to lighten up.

We headed backstage with the rest of the teenagers. Mike Brayley high-fived me. I tried to keep my touch light but he winced and rubbed his hand afterward. Rose slid her arm around my waist, laughing gaily. I smiled down at my girl. It was so nice to see her like this. She practically glowed. Her pale skin was warmed by the overdone stage makeup and her eyes sparkled with pleasure. In this moment, at least, she was happy.

I kissed Rosalie on top of her head and left for the boy's changing room. The kids were rowdy, clowning around. I joined in a bit, joking that someone like Rosalie was worth wearing tights for any day. I changed back in to slacks and a button down and went looking for the family.

"Emmett, come quick! It's Rosalie." Susan Delaney grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the auditorium. I was already moving even as I tried to puzzle out what could have happened. I followed Susan in to an empty classroom, looking around for Rose. But the room was empty.

"Thought I'd never get you alone." She pressed up against me, kissing me. She moved her tongue over my lips, leaving a slimy trail of saliva on my skin.

I froze, shocked. My mind was whirling even as she pressed her lips against mine. I could smell her blood flowing under the thin skin of her neck so close to my teeth. Her lungs pumped air in and out at a rapid pace, overshadowed by the sound of that beating heart. Venom flowed in to my mouth, sweet and fiery. I hadn't had an "accident" in nearly three decades, but I was beyond tempted to bury my teeth in the neck of this girl.

My hands clenched in to fists, I squeezed my eyes shut and I pulled my face from hers violently. The girl foolishly started to kiss my neck and I felt my control slipping when she disappeared from in front of me. I heard a crash and opened my eyes to see Rosalie standing over Susan, growling.

"Mine," she hissed. Rosalie's eyes were dark as night. "How dare you, you little hussy."

"It's not what you think." Susan's eyes were crafty. "He came on to me!"

Rosalie bent down and picked Susan up by her throat, lifting her up. Susan kicked her feet and clutched at Rose's hand.

"I think we both know that's not true, don't we?" Rosalie purred. "You've been a little brat since you laid eyes on my mate."

"Rosalie, don't…" I extended one hand to her. She whipped her head to me and I took a step back. Her expression held nothing of the woman I knew and loved. It was pure monster – the vampire side of her entirely in control. I'd never even seen this side of her while we hunted.

"Rose, no. Don't do this. She's just a dumb kid, you know that." I kept my voice soothing. She looked at me, fire in her eyes. "Come on, darlin', let go of her."

"This was my chance, you know." Rosalie's voice was bitter. "My chance to know what it was like to be popular again. But you had to ruin it. You had to decide you wanted what's mine – my mate and my role."

Susan's blue eyes darted back and forth between me and Rosalie. Her breath came in small strangled gasps that fascinated the hunter in me. I sternly told that side of me to shove it. I kept eye contact with Rosalie instead, willing her to relax her hold. Sanity slowly returned to Rose's eyes. She dropped Susan, not gently, but she'd let go.

"Come on, babe." I reached my hand out to Rosalie and she took it. Everything would have been fine if the girl had just kept her mouth shut.

"What are you two? You freaks aren't normal!" She climbed to her feet and started backing towards the door. "I'm telling!"

Before she got another two steps toward the door I had moved in front of her, blocking her escape.

"You aren't telling anyone." I looked her in the eye and she shivered.

"I am. I'm telling Mr. Toomey and the principal and – and," she sputtered to a stop. Crap. Did the girl have no sense of self-preservation?

"Rose, I think you need to go find Carlisle." I kept my voice even and low. I spoke below the girl's ability to hear me.

"Why? So he can convince us to leave her alive? So she can run and tell the whole damn town what we are?" Rose didn't bother to lower her voice. I looked away from her.

"Rosalie, you need to go find Carlisle and the rest of the family. I'll be along shortly." I could see her mouth form an "o".

"Emmett, I- I don't know…"

I growled. "Just go. I'll clean up this mess." She left, the breeze from her passing ruffling Susan's hair.

"Susan, you can't say anything. Your life depends on it." Her eyes widened so far I thought her eyeballs would pop out. I straightened to my full height and let my expression chill until it could have frozen water. "Promise me right now that you will forget what happened here."

"F-forget? How could I forget that you guys are some kind of monsters?" She trembled in front of me. I hated the part of me that salivated as she cowered.

"Please, just promise," I begged.

"No! You're not natural. I won't – " Before she could finish her sentence I'd wrapped my hands around her neck and twisted, breaking her neck in one motion. Her body slumped to the floor. It took every ounce of self-control not to drink from her. Her heart continued to beat for a few moments and I could feel venom flooding my mouth. I just stood there, looking at her body, until I heard voices in the hall. I grabbed Susan's carcass and slipped through the window.

It wasn't hard to hide the body. The school was right on Young's Bay. I towed her out to the middle of the bay and piled a few large rocks on her body to make sure she wouldn't float up to the surface any time soon. I headed back to land, but didn't go back to the school. I couldn't face them and pretend to be happy. For the first time in a long time I felt like I really was a monster.

I didn't want to go back to school the next day, but I knew I'd caused enough of a stir by not attending the after party for the play. If I disappeared at the same time Susan went missing it would raise eyebrows, something our family couldn't afford in a town this small.

The family knew something was wrong. I hadn't spoken a word. I couldn't. I felt like a monster for what I'd done. If only I'd stopped Rosalie sooner, if I'd just told Susan "no" instead of freezing when she'd kissed me, this wouldn't have happened.

I knew Edward knew. You can't keep something like this secret with a mind reader in the family. He didn't say anything, though. He was a cool cat about it. I was grateful, in the moments I had between bouts of guilt. I couldn't even look at Rosalie.

She'd tried to tell me she was sorry. I knew she was. She didn't apologize easily. But I couldn't. I just couldn't deal with her right now. So instead I spent as much time as I could out of the house. It had been nearly a week. I hadn't eaten since then and I was out hunting, moping really, when Edward found me.

"Rotten luck, man," he said. He'd plopped down next to me on the tree branch I'd been sitting on. I looked over at my brother and was surprised to find no condemnation in his expression.

"It wasn't luck, Edward. I did that. I chose to kill her."

Edward nodded.

"Yeah, you did. But you did it for Rosalie. And us. You did it to protect the family." He shrugged his shoulders.

"And that makes it right? I'm no better than the Volturi or a nomad. What would Carlisle say?" I buried my face in my hands.

"I think Carlisle would be disappointed. But he'd forgive you. He'd understand." Edward patted me awkwardly on the shoulder.

"I don't know, man." I shook my head and looked over at him. I could feel the bleakness of my expression, but couldn't summon anything like my normal smile.

"She was going to expose us, even after you warned her several times, right?" he asked.

"Yeah," I answered glumly.

"You were thinking of keeping your mate and your family safe. Sometimes," he hesitated. "Sometimes you have to make compromises to keep those you love safe."

"Yeah, I suppose." I wasn't convinced. Hell, he hardly seemed convinced, but I appreciated his support. I sighed.

"Come on, Em. You can't change what happened. Just let it go." He smiled. "Bet I can find a bigger grizzly than you can!"

I smiled at him wanly, but rose to his challenge. "In your dreams, little brother."

"Rosalie?" I stood in the doorway of our bedroom. She'd been sitting on the bed, her feet on the floor and her hands clasped in her lap. Her hair hung loose down her back and the purple circles under her eyes were darker than normal. She turned her head to me.

"Emmett?" Her voice was a whisper.

"I can't change what happened." She looked at me, agony on her face. She nodded and worried her bottom lip with her teeth. I smiled sadly. She was so beautiful, my Rose. "Can – can you forgive me?"

"Me, forgive you?" She sounded startled. "What do I need to forgive you for? I'm the one…" she lowered her eyes, "that needs to be forgiven."

I was on my knees in front of her in an instant. I cupped her face between my hands and kissed her over and over.

"No, no, Rosie, no." I trailed kisses over her face, her nose, her eyes. "It's not your fault, babe."

"Well, it's not yours either," she replied tartly. I laughed, relieved at the familiar tone. "Don't you know it's all about me?"

"Why, there's a wench!" I quoted. "Come on, and kiss me, Rose."

* * *

**Next up, tomorrow am, a Neverending Math Equation outtake from Twanza.**


	9. Outtake from Twanza

**Name**: Twanza

**Title**: _Neverending Tangents: Emmett & Rose_

**Rating**: M

**Pairing**: Emmett/Rose

**Summary**: This is something I wrote in the process of writing _Neverending Math Equation_ to help me understand the characters. In this case it's Emmett who has recently met Rose (and Jasper) and is starting to figure out a few things out about her. I'll be posting this and other outtakes over the next month or so under the title _Neverending Tangents_.

* * *

_Still rivahs run deep, eh Jaspah? _

He'd given me a stoic look and said "Ancient history."

I liked that he wasn't a talker. I listened to people running their fucking mouths about nothing all day long. His silence earned my respect.

And Rose?

Rose wouldn't say shit if her mouth was full of it.

We had a few hours to kill until we had to leave for Esme's and I wasn't about to waste her talents on an in-room movie and the mini-bah.

I wrapped my hand around her ponytail as she bobbed back and forth on my dick. Mary Mother of God her mouth was incredible. She looked up at me. Her eyes were the color of the sky. Everything about her reminded me of a sunny day, except her fuckin' disposition.

**3.**

I'd first met her at her shop in New York. I knew her reputation and had seen shots of her in magazines, but the reality was fuckin' mind-blowing.

I hadn't been there for ten minutes before she was busting my balls. She ran her right hand over the skin on my knuckles. The ink on my left hand trigger finger read "Veritas" and the one on my right "Aequitas."

She cocked an eyebrow at me.

"Truth and justice," I said proudly.

"You expect to be taken seriously with that shit on your skin?"

I opened my mouth in shock, but before I could say anything, she said, "Show me what else you've got."

I stripped off my shirt. She ran her hand professionally over the marks on my skin, down my chest, over my stomach, and let a finger trail to the top of my belt. She cocked her head at me. Her lips curled into a shape that wasn't exactly a sneer, but it wasn't a smile either. She was definitely reserving judgment until she saw the goods.

I nodded.

She waited.

"Here?" We were in the middle of her fucking store.

"Come in the back, if you'd prefer."

_Come in the back._

The juvenile joke wouldn't fly with her. In fact, it would probably get my ass kicked right back on to the street.

"What's in the back?" I asked, instead.

"See for yourself."

I followed where she lead, behind a dark heavy curtain, past a supply room and down a short hall to what I assumed was the office. It was dark, old school. It looked like a place where deals were made. On the desk was a lamp with a green glass shade. There was an in and out bin. The walls held years of pin up calendars that had to be older than she was.

She sat on the edge of the dark wood desk. "Show me."

_That's all this was. __ A fucking game of chicken._

I wasn't about to let this girl take me down, but at the same time she was a scary fucker, which made me want to scare her back.

I unbuckled just enough so she could see the front of hip.

"Semper Fidelis," she whispered. "You were a marine?"

"First Battalion. Ninth Infantry Regiment."

She stepped close and touched my ink, and I fucking stepped back and buckled up. "Quid pro quo, baby," I said.

She shook her head and laughed. "Oh shit, not you too."

"Tit for tatt," I laughed back at her, not sure what she meant.

She had on a white t-shirt with curlicue lettering that said "Chest Hair" on it, and a short skirt with an animal print. This chick was fucking feral. She turned her back to me and pulled off her top. She had a full back piece of a pin-up bent over, showing her ass and legs. Rose looked at me over her shoulder to get my reaction and I realized their faces were identical.

_Why would someone do that? So fuckin' needy. _

She didn't seem happy with my response, pulled down the zipper at the side of her skirt and stepped out of it. Her black heels made her long legs even longer. Up her left side was a line of color pin-ups, but on her bicep was a fuckin' goddess, a female warrior with a helmet in black work.

Rose wore the other tattoos, but this tatt wore Rose.

**3.**

Back out in the front, I told her what I wanted. I needed to acknowledge something – to put it to rest, to bury it under my skin. I wanted one like she had. Black work, graphic, primitive. One that would remind me of what I was when I needed to be reminded.

Rose squinted at me. "You need to call Jimmy," she said, and then laughed. "He's your man." She walked over to the desk and pulled out a card and handed it to me.

The card was mostly just a graffiti illustration of some buildings, but in the center was a rough drawn heart. The ink was black. Underneath was a name. _Jasper Cullen._

"Do I ask for Jimmy?"

"No, just tell him Rosalie Hale sent you. He'll hook you up." She gave me a long look and crossed her arms appraisingly.

I was sure I'd passed muster, and I was used to being stared at, but she unnerved me. My first instinct was to meet her eyes and back her down, but I decided to take the nonchalant approach and pretended to be interested in the pictures on her walls. Most of them were black and white photographs of old men in days gone by. Big black cars parked in front of the building, a few close-ups of arms that belonged to men who were long in their graves. Insignia more than personality reflected back at me. These guys weren't wearing pussy ink – these were the marks of honor and pride. Of desperation on battlefields. Of friends lost. Of mothers who weren't there to console. Of women who had goddamn well better be waiting at home.

I moved around the room, and came upon a group of illustrations, similar to the one on the card she'd given me. I asked her about them and Rose strung together more words at one time than she had since I'd been here. She had more to say about those fucking pictures than she had about anything else we'd discussed that afternoon. She seemed as proud of them as she was of the history of her fucking shop.

Rose's words were almost businesslike. Almost. But her descriptions didn't quite cover the longing I heard. She caught herself when I started to really listen to what she wasn't saying. "You'll have to go to Brooklyn, though. You'll have to go to him."

"To who?"

"To Jasper. You need to see Jasper."

Something in her tone shifted when she said his name.

I think I surprised her by asking her out to dinner before asking if I could fuck her, but first things first. And I needed to know what I was dealing with before I got myself involved.

Funny thing was, I think Rosie was doing the same thing to me but she somehow managed to be the one running the show.

**3.**

Now that I'd met him, I knew it was more than just professional admiration, but I liked him anyway. Shit, I even bought clothes for the poor bastard, sending Rosie away so I could take his measure.

When I was done sizing him up, I realized that the fucker had his mitts on this girl - and I couldn't even blame her. He was one of the more amusing assholes I'd run across in a long time.

I pulled her off my dick and she stood up. I held her in my arms. She was warm and willing, much more cooperative than I'd imagined she'd be. With her shoes on she was almost as tall as I was. She wrapped a leg around my waist and the heel of her fuckin' shoe dug into my back. I shoved my cock inside of her and held her ass.

"Put your other leg around me, baby." I lifted her off the ground, happy to feel her weight in my arms, challenged by the diversion.

She ground into me, her legs like a vise, and bounced up and down as much as she could. This wasn't workin' for me.

Her muscles got tight. Strong. Her movements were sexy, but they weren't authentic. This was more show than tell. She was challenging me with her body, and while I wanted it, I couldn't shake the fuckin' feeling that she was somewhere else.

"Quit the nonsense, Rosie," I said, kissing up her neck. I slipped her shoes off and whispered in her ear, "I want to fuck you, not join the wrestling team."

Her eyes flashed at me in anger and I smiled. "I'm not kiddin'. This is fuckin' nuts. Hang on."

I walked us over to the bed and laid her down without pulling out. I pinned her to the mattress. At first she struggled to take back control, but I held her still. I leaned on my elbows to take some of the weight off and brushed a strand the hair out of her eyes, then adjusted myself between her legs to make sure she was paying attention. She wrapped her legs around me.

"Settle down there, baby." She took a few deep breaths and I kissed her throat, while I waited for her testosterone-levels to even out. When I felt her muscles loosen slightly, I looked up and saw the girl come back in to her face.

I took one of her legs from around my back and held it up in front of me, spreading her open a bit, letting her feel vulnerable. I pulled out of her and sucked at her skin, from her muscled calves to the soft inside of her thigh, all the way up to her center, but not quite. I unwrapped her other leg and held her in a vee. This was the front view of the tatt on her back and she looked fuckin' fabulous, making the ridiculous image on her back a mockery of the beauty lying in front of me. She had black polish on her toes, which were smooth and perfect. I sucked in each tiny digit, holding her open, making her wait.

I smiled at her. Her cheeks were pink, but when I caught her eyes, I felt the muscles in her legs twitch to take back control. "This isn't the fucking _Rosalie Hale Show_, guest appearance by Emmett McCarty."

She blinked in confusion.

"I'm not fuckin' you, until you are here with me."

The 'with me' part being the operative term.

I held her legs open still, and looked down at her pussy. My heart was hammering in my chest and my dick was throbbing at the thought of moving back into her heat, but I wasn't playing games. I had thought of her every day since we'd played doctor in the backroom of her shop, but I could wait her out.

I gripped her ankles hard and pulled her legs open wider, then bent to lick a trail up the inside of her left calf. I felt a tiny rough patch with my tongue.

"Missed a spot, sweetheart," I laughed. She instinctively tried to snap her legs shut, but I

held her fast. Her eyes flashed in alarm, but then she laughed. A real, gutsy laugh and I knew she'd finally arrived.

"If I wanted perfect, I could have stayed home in jerked off in front of a mirror," I smiled.

She laughed again and her eyes twinkled. "I'd like to see that."

"I'd like you to see that," I said, and pushed her legs back down toward the bed. I leaned in and licked the strip of blond peach fuzz. I let go of her and she dropped even further down on to the bed.

"_Double jointed__. Figures,"_ I thought, loosening the control. I wanted to bury myself inside of her, but first things first. I pushed my thumb into her, and palmed her swollen heat. I looked down at her. Her eyes were half shut and her chest rose and fell, panting.

"I'm glad you're not bare like a fuckin' 10-year old, and I hate stubble."

She grinned lazily without opening her eyes. "I go to the barber shop once a week."

"Get outta town."

"Hot towels, shaving cream in a mug, the strop, the whole nine yahds," she said, mimicking me.

"I'd like to see that."

"I'd like you to see that," she repeated, still mimicking, but serious. "But you'll have to come back to New York."

"You say that like it's a fuckin' problem."

She smiled at me and I was done.

Rosie breathed out a sigh and wrapped her arms around me. She shifted her hips so that we were back in position, side to side. She wrapped one leg around me, pulling me in, no performance left in her embrace. Her lips were perfect, all valentine-y and pink. She closed her eyes and I nuzzled her neck. I rubbed myself against her wetness a few times before thrusting into her again.

This shit would never get old, of that I was sure.

I pumped in and out, wanting her to come first. Banging inside of her, building and hardening. She whispered "Jas," so softly then shut her mouth, hoping I hadn't heard, and then she was holding her breath, back in her own world, which pissed me off.

"Fuckin' breathe, Rosie," I whispered harshly. Her eyes flashed blue. Our bodies slapped together in anger, as she took out whatever fuckery was going on inside her brain. I moved harder and she groaned.

"Look at me," I said. An unspoken agreement passed between us, and we let this be whatever it was going to be.

She rolled and pulled me down flat on top of her, and then it was just heat and fucking, as our bodies slammed together. She groaned and I pounded into her when I knew she was almost there.

She gasped and groaned, and I almost fuckin' lost it in side of her. I pressed my face into her hair to try and control myself, but felt a hot tear fall against my face. I looked up and thumbed away the little river, and smiled.

"Take it out on me, Rosie. Go ahead."

She smiled at me and hugged me around the neck. I rolled us over and she kissed me hard.

Her mouth was hypnotizing, but I pulled away to look at her and admire my handiwork. She looked fucking messed up in the best possible way and arranged herself on the bed. I leaned back down and kissed her mouth.

"Touch yourself for me, baby," I whispered, because I wanted to see what she would do, and I wanted to see her do it, and I needed to change shit up from wherever her mind was.

She rubbed circles onto herself, while I wrapped my arms and legs around her, touching all of the places she wasn't touching herself.

When she instructed me to put my dick in her and wait, I didn't have to be told twice - but when she started coming, I started pumping. I wanted it to take longer than it did, but her orgasm set me off and I started rocking into her as she shuddered and moaned.

But before I could finish, she stopped me.

"Wait, not yet," she gasped. "I need to come again."

This girl would be the death of me.

She brought herself off again, but before she was done she pushed me onto my back, sat on top of my dick and rode out the rest. Something about being pinned down by her made it more intense and I got harder inside of her as she shuddered. I pulled her face to mine and slipped my tongue into her mouth. She was still pulsing around me, when I felt her hand moving between us again. I held back as long as I could, trying to concentrate on her tongue in my mouth, and not the fact that she was bringing herself off again.

Her weight, pressing on me, the heat between her thighs was too much though, and when she came again, I flipped her over. "My turn, Rosie." She smiled and I saw both the challenge and the surrender in her eyes.

I could barely think she felt so good. I slammed into her hard. All I felt was pulsing want and throbbing need. I sucked at her neck, one hand cradling her head, and the other around the small of her back. Trying to move while her strong arms and legs squeezed around me only added to the tension. I was locked in tight to this girl, and when I came, I thought my entire body would explode from the pressure.

"Oh, fuck. Oh, shit. Rosie." I gasped, and I swear to god it was like blacking out and seeing the white light at the same time.

I pulled her in to my chest when I realized I wasn't dead. I was sweaty as I'd ever been after a day of boot camp, and almost as exhausted. I cradled her with my arms, thinking how nice it would be to drift off with this girl for an hour, but my mind started churning the minute she fell asleep and I watched her angel face.

"_How had Jasper let her__ out of his grasp?"_

When he hadn't showed up on time at the studio today, she'd left him countless voicemails. I thought of the fierceness in her voice. A girl didn't talk like that to a guy she was fucking, but a girl didn't talk like that to a guy she hadn't fucked, either.

This made complete sense to me.

They even looked alike.

Though I was pretty fuckin' sure that she and Jasper were done, his proximity down the hall was not good. They mighta been over, but I knew she could be convinced. And though I didn't know exactly what his fucking situation was, if there was going to be any fucking convincing, I was gonna be the one doing it.

I smoothed the hair off of her face and rubbed my thumb across her sleeping lips, which immediately puffed up into a kiss, so I took it. She grinned without opening her eyes and said sweetly, "Let's do that again."

I laughed and when she opened them to look at me her eyes were almost shy.

Like I was gonna say no.

I didn't know for sure when I'd get another chance like this, so I gave the lady what she wanted. And in the process I figured out what I was and what I needed.

And I needed Rose.

"How d'ya like them apples?" I thought and kissed her again.

**# # #**

12


	10. One Shot From Naelany

**Penname: **Naelany**  
Title: **Source Code Compatible

**Rating: **M**  
Pairing: **Emmett and Jasper

**Summary:**Life has always been simple for Emmett, a series of ones and zeros that equals a happy existence. He's looking for only two things - a job to love and a man to adore. Is it possible that one will lead to the other?

**A/N:** When word got out about 30 Days of Emmett, I couldn't resist. Limited on time as I am, I said I'd do one drabble.

*peeks down and blushes*

Umm, yeah...Emmett had more to say. I hope you enjoy this little peek inside his life.

Thanks to _**SorceressCirce**_ for beta'ing, and to _**kimberlycullen10**_ & _**theladyingrey**_ for pre-reading.

As ever, I only love to play with the boys, I do not own them.

**ooOoo**

******envelope**

"...and like I said during your interview, we've been pushing the boundaries of gaming for years. H-tech started out just us messing around, mod'ing and shit, and we never really stopped."

I only half-listen to him as he babbles on and on about the company and how they started. It's all stuff that's been mentioned before.

My focus instead is on the people in this small office.

"Yo, Mike...mail's here."

Turning, I see blond hair, blue eyes, and a killer smile, staring at me.

Mike takes the offered mail with a huff and says, "Emmett, let me introduce you..."

**shock**

"...to Jasper. He's the brain behind all of this," Mike says, adding under his breath, "Or so he'd like everyone to believe..."

Jasper rolls his eyes at the comment, his grin firmly in place as he shakes my hand.

I gasp, shivering at the feel of his cold skin on mine.

Jasper's smile fades a little as he mumbles, "Yeah, sorry...I'm always freezing, it seems."

He blushes faintly. The need to ease the nervousness I see in him takes me by surprise.

"Nah, man, it's cool."

I grin, winking at him.

His eyes widen, as does his smile.

**grasp**

Jasper puts his hand on my elbow, guiding me around the room to introduce me to the rest of the team.

"This is Jake. He's one of the code-monkeys."

Jake's grip on my hand is firm, almost aggressive. The huge smile on his face belies any hostility, though, as does the twinkle in his eyes. Maybe he simply doesn't know his own strength.

Edward, Rosalie, and Seth are all introduced next.

Rosalie, I learn, is Jasper's twin. She's just as much a geek as her brother, she says, but she won the lottery on looks.

I smile bemusedly at her.

**slide**

Throughout the day, Rosalie continues to try to engage me in conversation, making remarks that would surely catch any ordinary, straight guy's attention.

Except I'm not straight. And I'm definitely not interested.

In her, at least.

So I try to be polite, shrug off her comments, and do my job.

Every so often, Jasper and Edward tell her to knock it off, for which I'm thankful.

When it's time to clock out, Jasper stands next to my desk, looking uncertain, maybe even a little uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry about Rose. She can be a little..." he says, blushing.

"It's cool, Jazz..."

**dawn**

My eyes widen as soon as I realize what I said. "I...sorry, I didn't mean..."

He tilts his head, a lazy grin on his lips, his eyes searching mine as he says, "I don't mind. You can call me 'Jazz', if you like."

It's my turn to blush. The entire day, I haven't heard anyone call him anything but 'Jasper', or 'Hale'. My mind's racing as I try to figure out what it means.

Jasper clears his throat. "So...Edward, Jake, and I were going to grab a beer. Wanna come?"

He looks hopeful, I realize with a start.

**initial**

My first reaction is 'no'. I'm not sure if it'd be a good idea to spend time with Jasper, even if there'll be others there. For all intents and purposes, he's my boss.

A boss I find far too attractive for my own good.

And who seems to have an interest in me, too.

It'd probably be better for me to keep business just that - business.

My mouth, however, seems to have different ideas, as the words, "Sure, where are we going?" come out instead.

The brilliance of his smile has my dick agreeing with my mouth.

"The Cardinal Pub."

**corduroy**

We sit at a round table - Edward on my left, Jake my right, Jasper opposite me. I'm not sure how to feel about that because there's no avoiding him now.

No matter where I look, I see him.

Not that he's bad to look at. Far fucking from it.

I can't _stop_ looking at him.

And he knows it.

He's wearing a dark burgundy corduroy blazer, which on any other guy would look ridiculous and old-fashioned. On him, it looks damn sexy.

I try to pay attention to the conversation.

He grins and quirks an eyebrow as our gazes lock.

**laughter**

Jake snorts, rolling his eyes as Edward says, "D'you think Mike'll ever get his pompous head out of his ass? I swear to God..."

Edward shakes his head, taking a long drink of his beer.

Jasper chuckles, his eyes flickering to mine. "Nah, I doubt it. If he weren't as good at his job as he is, and if he hadn't been with Rose when we first got started..."

I snicker.

"Ah, so that explains it..."

Jasper leans forward, elbows on the table. He grins, though his eyes hold a challenge. "Explains, what, exactly?"

"Why she kept hitting on me."

**red**

"And why's that?" Edward asks.

I fight a smile, my eyes flickering to him before refocusing on Jasper.

"She either wanted to make the man jealous or to get him hot under the collar by making a move on me in front of him."

Jake snorts. Edward futilely tries not to laugh.

Jasper's eyes are sharp on mine, looking like he wants to ask something.

Taking a sip of my beer, I grin. "Too bad it's a wasted effort, on her part."

Jasper quirks a brow.

I mutter, "Wrong Hale."

Jasper blushes.

Oblivious, Edward chuckles. "You've got her number, alright."

**slick**

I excuse myself to use the restroom. When I get back, I see Jasper shoot Edward a quick look.

Edward's lips twitch in response.

As I sit down, he looks at Jake. "Hey, we'd best get going. Bella won't be happy if we spoil dinner by being late."

Jake nods, finishing his beer, then turns to me with his huge smile. Shaking my hand - too tightly again - he says, "Glad you joined the team, Em. See you tomorrow."

Edward echoes the sentiment, and they leave.

I grin at Jasper. "Subtle."

He shrugs. "Always the smooth talker, our Edward."

"And you?"

**tendril**

He tucks his curls behind his ear and leans forward. His voice is low as he says, "I'm more of a 'get to the point' kinda guy."

Folding my arms, I rest them on the table, our faces close enough that I can smell him, feel his breath as it washes over me.

"And what point would that be, Jazz?"

His pupils dilate, his blush deepens, and his voice grows husky. "The point is...I think I like you, Emmett. I think I could do a hell of a lot more, too."

I blink, my resolve hanging by a thread.

**soft**

"You always treat new employees this way?" I whisper.

He ducks his head, cheeks flaming as he stutters, 'I-I didn't mean..."

He takes a deep breath, letting it out as he raises his eyes to mine. They have an odd mixture of tenderness and absolute sincerity in them. "I don't, no. And I apologize if I'm making you uncomfortable. I just..."

I can't seem to look away from his face, and apparently I'm incapable of rational thought, too. It's as if my entire being is tuned to him, and him alone.

Yet I shouldn't be...

"I know...me, too," I breathe.

**stress**

A frown mars his brow as he watches me. I can feel him worrying about what to do, wondering how it will affect the whole work-situation.

Weighing pros and cons that are going through my mind, too.

_To hell with it. I can always find another job. _

I lift my hand, brushing my thumb over his frown, smoothing it out.

Jasper lets out a soft sigh, tension visibly leaving his body at my touch.

"I think..." I pause, biting my lip as I search for words to explain what I feel. "I'd like to see if this is...more, too."

**curl**

Standing in front of his door, he turns to me, his fingers wrapped around the door knob. "Are you sure, Em?"

His eyes search mine for reassurance. We both want this, of that I'm sure. Yet he had needed convincing to go further - at least, after I'd made the comment about being an employee.

"Jazz..."

Placing my hand on his nape - fingers curved around his neck - I close the distance, only needing to dip my head a little to find my lips a hair's breadth away from his.

"If it comes to it, a job isn't what I'm living for."

**repress**

I can feel him trying to suppress a shudder. I grin, brushing my lips softly against his.

His response is immediate. His free hand grabs my neck, holding me to him, swallowing my moan with his kiss.

Too soon, he pulls away, whispering, "Jesus..."

He shakes his head, blinking, then finally opens the door.

I don't get the chance to look around before he pulls me inside and pushes me against the door, effectively shutting it.

Eyes fixed on mine, he says, "Now's the time for you to stop this. I won't be able to restrain myself if you stay."

**azure**

"So don't..."

His cerulean eyes turn so deep, dark blue, it's like watching a storm roll in. Hints of purple flash like lightning in the sky as he takes a sharp breath.

His lips bruise mine with the force of the kiss that immediately follows.

He presses his body flush with mine, and the feel of him as I wrap my arms tightly around his waist is heaven.

It's been a while since I've been with anyone - I'm not the 'sleep around' kinda guy. Somehow, I don't think he is, either.

All I can think is that I want more.

**warm**

I tug at his shirt, slowly pulling it out of his pants before slipping my hands under it, splaying them over his back.

He moans at the contact, shifting his hips. In turn, I pull him closer still, letting him feel what he's doing to me.

His hands mimic my actions, and I shudder - both from pleasure, and because his hands are cold.  
Trailing kisses along my jaw, he murmurs, "Sorry..."

Nipping under my ear, he whispers, "God, you feel so good. Skin's so soft...so warm."

"I can have you sweating in no time," I growl into his ear.

**calm**

His hands are sure as he peels my clothes off, not allowing me to do the same - yet.

Fingertips trail over every inch of skin that's uncovered, causing me to shiver, even if his hands have warmed slightly.

His voice is husky, soothing and enticing at once. "Even better than I thought...God_damn_, I need to..."

Our eyes lock as he pleads, "Can I taste you?"

I nod. Before I can utter a word, he's on his knees, his lips around the head of my cock.

The warmth of his mouth leaves me breathless, struggling to quiet my thumping heart.

**  
****breathe**

Tongue trailing, lips sucking, throat swallowing, fingers teasing.

It isn't long before he has me panting, so close to coming I can't see straight.

I tug his hair until he lets go. Pulling him up by his arms, my lips quickly claim his until we both run out of air.

"Good as that feels, that's not how I want to come," I rasp.

I make short work of his clothes. Pushing him down onto his bed, I crawl over him, the need to kiss and taste too great to ignore.

He comes alive as I pepper his skin with kisses.

**scar**

I pause when my lips brush over raised flesh.

Jasper shivers, a blush on his cheeks as I look up. My fingers brush tenderly over his marred skin, asking a silent question.

His hand covers mine. He sighs. "Long story..."

I quirk a brow.

"Stupid teenage stunt - Jake, too much alcohol, and a dare involving cliff diving," he mumbles.

I file the information away for later, deciding to keep my focus here and now.

He gasps, "Oh shit..." as I lavish attention on the myriad scars before moving further down.

Closing my lips around his erection, I hum with pleasure.

**glint**

Sensing he's getting close, I pull away to kiss him thoroughly. I want much more tonight than either of us getting off with a simple blow-job.

Just how we get there is up to Jasper.

His hands are everywhere as he holds me to him. Breathless, his eyes search mine.

"I want you, beautiful. Will you let me?"

His nostrils flare, his eyes blazing, as he whispers hoarsely, "God, yes. Please, Emmett" - all he's capable of uttering.

He rolls to the side, reaching in his nightstand for condoms and lube, handing me the latter.

Soon, I have him writhing.

**open**

His lips are parted, his eyes closed, his fingers grasping the sheets.

The sheer need he feels is plain to see, even more so to hear through his moaned pleading. "Jesus, Emmett...please, _please_!"

I pull away long enough to put on the condom and lube my aching cock.

Sitting between his legs, my eyes rove over his naked body until they meet his.

Stretching, I seal our lips, swallowing his throaty groan as I enter him for the first time.

Jasper's fingers are entangled in my hair as he holds me to him, his other gripping my lower back.

**dance**

Our movements are almost choreographed, as if we've known each other for years rather than hours.

He seems to know just what to do to send me soaring, what to say to drive me absolutely crazy in all the best ways.

It takes everything I have to keep going, to get him there, too.

He pulls my face to his, kissing me hungrily, his tongue pushing into my mouth - tasting, probing, twisting with mine.

His body tenses, and he tilts his head back, letting out a strangled, "Oh _God_! Em_...met_."

I laugh shakily in relief as he finally lets go.

**pure**

The look of unadulterated bliss on his face warms me from the inside out.

There's something in his eyes that calls to me - that reverberates deep in my soul - and I know I don't want to let this go.

Don't want to let _him_ go.

Jasper cups my cheek, his thumb brushing my cheekbone. He whispers, "Stay?"

His request is so simple, yet at the same time full of implications.

"Please?" he adds.

I watch him silently as I try to formulate my answer.

Turning my head, I kiss his palm before holding it to my face as I nod.

**burn**

His eyes seem to smoulder with desire, and then he's kissing me again as if his life depends on it.

My goals in life have always been straightforward - get a job I love and find someone to love I can't live without.

When I took the job at H-Tech, I thought I'd found my dream job.

Now, with Jasper whispering his dreams and desires in my ear, I feel as though I've found my life, instead.

There's a lot we have to learn about each other, that much I know. But the feelings he's stirring in me cannot be denied. 


	11. One Shot from Emilydmamaof3

**Pen Name: **emilydmamaof3

**Rating: **M

**Pairing: **Emmett & Rosalie

**Title: **Yuengs & Wings

**A/N: **Thanks to Iwant2sparkle and teacupsNmints for beta'ing despite busy schedules and their own writing projects. Thanks also to Emily and Kristen for pre-reading and encouragement. Any and all mistakes are mine, commas are not my friend.

~MNF~

Emmett McCarty was a family man. Not a suit and tie, up and out of the house by 7am after having his bowl of grape nuts, stuffy and distant, kind of family man. Rather, he was the kind of man with whom a woman would want to settle down, raise a family and grow old. Loyal. Dependable. Reliable. He was a man that a woman could bring home and introduce to a doting mother or a suspicious father and become a force within the family dynamic. His co-workers respected his work ethic and appreciated his intelligence and opinion. Children flocked to him and his sense of fun. For all intents and purposes, Emmett McCarty was a hell of a catch. Yet, at the age of thirty, Emmett McCarty found himself without a family.

The problem for Emmett wasn't so much that he had no wife or children. He simply had no one at all. Mama McCarty had died suddenly when Emmett was merely a child. He didn't remember much about her life and knew even less about her death. Pops had succumbed to cancer a week after Emmett's twenty-sixth birthday. The memories of his father were plentiful and pleasant. Even while dying, Pops had kept his sense of humor.

The fond memories and respect for his father's hard work were both reasons why Emmett held onto the house he grew up in. He'd considered selling and moving to something more bachelor-friendly. At twenty-six, Emmett was planning for a future and he wanted the wife, the kids, the dog. So he'd held onto the house with more bedrooms than he needed and a fenced-in backyard. At thirty, he had a chocolate labrador retriever, Shorty, who enjoyed chasing squirrels around that big fenced-in yard. But still, no wife or kids to fill his quiet house with sounds of life and love. And he wanted it.

There were neighbors. Lots of people who'd known Emmett since he was just a tiny thing resting on his mama's hip. The same neighbors who grieved for his mama and pitied him for his loss. They'd sent care packages, cooked dinners and watched the boy on nights when his dad worked overtime. When he grew into a man and came home for good, Emmett remembered their kindness. It was why on a cool October Saturday morning, Emmett was raking the leaves that had overtaken Mrs. Cope's yard.

"Shorty," Emmett yelled,. "No jumping in my piles. Go on." The dog's eyes held steady as he studied the path of the tennis ball Emmett had thrown. He broke into a run, wanting to get to the spot where it would land before it fell to the earth. Shorty jumped and caught the ball in his mouth while Emmett cheered.

"That dog is nothing but trouble." Mrs. Cope winked at Emmett as she set down a glass filled with apple cider.

"You love my dog, Mrs. C. Shorty keeps the cats away."

"And thank goodness for that, dear. We do have a terrible feral cat population. How we survived without Shorty around is a mystery."

The old woman's laughter filled Emmett's ears and his heart as he gathered the orange and gold leaves into one last pile.

"No need to be smart. This mutt keeps me company on cold, winter nights."

"That's a woman's job, young man."

"Yes, you've told me all about your nieces. While I appreciate you thinking of me..."

"Oh stop it. One's engaged and the other doesn't seem interested in your type, if you know what I mean." Realizing he wasn't quite ready to quit working, she walked over to him and placed the glass of cider into his hand. "My point is, I'd love to see you find someone."

"And my question is... why?" Emmett shifted the rake to rest on his shoulder as he put his weight on his left leg.

"Because you want it. You deserve it. And we need some new blood around here," Mrs. Cope said as she waved her arms around. Pointing at a house a block away,with a smile on her face, she continued speaking. "That one over there has a nice new family. Sweet couple. You went to school with the husband, I think?" Emmett nodded in affirmation but grimaced realizing Mrs. Cope didn't remember he and the nice new family were close friends. "Aside from them, there isn't a person on the street who isn't old enough to collect social security. How can we stay young if there is nothing but old around us? Find a girl, have some babies that I can dote on. Be happy." She squeezed his side before turning to walk back into the house. Emmett watched as she turned when she got to the door leading to her kitchen and laughed as she reminded him to put everything back the way he found it. 

~MNF~ 

Monday Night Football parties were a ritual for the McCarty men. Granted, they were more gatherings than parties, but still, a tradition nonetheless. For a time, Emmett and his old man had watched the games together just the two of them. When Pops had found out he was dying, he stopped inviting the men over in favor of spending one-on-one time with his grown son. Emmett revived the tradition after the loss of the family patriarch. As more of his friends got married, found girlfriends or moved away, the number of attendees dwindled. Sure, he had the best quality television set-up in the county, but his buddies had other commitments. If the Eagles were playing, his house was packed. If they weren't, he could only count on his best friend. Emmett had stood up for Edward at his wedding to Bella and, in turn, Edward and Bella had moved just down the street and joined him every Monday night during the Fall and Winter months for football.

At first, he'd resented the female intrusion, but after the first season he'd grown to accept her presence in their lives. Admittedly, he enjoyed her company, and her pregnancy had made her quite the interesting female. Emmett realized she'd stopped seeing him as a man and instead viewed him as family when she belched after downing an entire order of buffalo wings.

"The baby likes spicy foods," she shrugged.

"Is there anything the baby doesn't like?" His finger jabbed into her side, only instead of giggling like the Pillsbury Dough Boy, he was met with a glare.

"He doesn't like being poked. Knock it off."

"Alright, I'll stop. Where is this friend of yours, anyway?"

"She should be here any minute. Try to be on good behavior. She's new to the area and kind of... nervous around new people."

"Shy?"

"No. I can't put my finger on it exactly. More like she takes a little while to warm up." Before she could say more, the doorbell chimed. Emmett stopped Bella as she wriggled around in the chair while trying to stand up.

"You sit back down, pregnant one. I'll answer the door since your husband disappeared." Emmett stood and stretched before walking toward the door.

"There's some eBay auction he's determined to win," Bella called out to him from the couch. "Something for the baby. He'll be back as soon as it's done."

Emmett unlocked the deadbolt and swung the door open. Upon seeing the woman standing in front of him, he was rendered speechless.

"Is this the right house? Excuse me, buddy, is Bella here?" The blonde woman waved her hands in front of his face. Emmett blinked and shook himself awake. Muttering something about making a "great first impression", he moved to the side to allow her to pass through.

"Sorry. I'm Emmett McCarty. Please come on in and make yourself at home." He said to the back of her head as she made her way down the hallway and into the family room where Edward and Bella were playfully arguing over what else to order for the game. "I believe you know Bella."

He was sure she looked at him as though he'd lost his mind. "Thanks, of course I know Bella. Where's everyone else?" She asked, looking over at her friend.

Bella pointed at the woman and back at Emmett. "Rosalie, this is Emmett. You already know Edward and I think that's it for tonight."

Emmett watched as _Rosalie's_ mouth tightened into a firm line. When her eyes closed, he worried she was about to blow a gasket.

"May I have a word with you?" Rosalie said through clenched teeth. Bella moved to get up, but Emmett once again told her to stay put as he made his way out of the room with Edward trailing behind. The kitchen felt like the right place to go and he flung drawers open while looking for a particular menu.

"Pizza?"

"Nope, more wings since your wife ate enough to feed a small village. We need beer, too."

"Beer? Did you forget to stock up?"

"Nah, I just figure I might need more than my usual to get through tonight. Ice Princess doesn't seem thrilled it's just the four of us. This better not be an attempt at a set-up." He slammed the drawer shut, pulling out the menu he'd been searching for while fuming at the prospect of being set-up with the woman in the other room.

Emmett called in to place the order then tried to distract himself for ten minutes until it was time to leave. Halfway through his attempt to organize his utensil drawer, Bella and Rosalie entered the kitchen. Bella hopped up on one of the counter stools even less gracefully than usual. Emmett noticed Rosalie was more fluid but deliberate in her movements. She was taller than average and instead of needing to stretch to reach the stool seat, she was able to gently ease herself down. Her back was straight, she had good posture even while sitting, and Emmett had no idea why but he found that attractive about her. It didn't hurt that she was beautiful.

Noticing the time, Emmett announced that he and Edward were going to run out to pick up their recent food order. He noticed the dissatisfied look on Bella's face and the glare that Rosalie was sending Bella's way when she spoke up. "Emmett, would you like me to ride with you? I've been informed that we have some shared interests." Her smile looked lethal and Emmett was tempted to turn down her offer until he noticed how intensely Bella was watching him.

"Sure. I'm dying to find out what we could possibly have in common. Right this way."

The heater was the only sound in the car for the first five minutes of the drive. Emmett was surprised when Rosalie broke the silence.

"I'm not good at talking with new people."

Emmett waited. He glanced to his right and could see her staring straight ahead, hands folded in her lap. Unsure of what to say, he tried to ease the tension.

"I wet my pants at my kindergarten graduation ceremony."

She snorted. Emmett couldn't believe that the sound had actually come from her, but she had definitely snorted.

"Why on earth would you tell me that?"

"You made a personal confession," he stated. "I thought the least I could do was follow up with a confession of my own. That stays between us, by the way." She seemed to relax into the seat and let out a soft sigh.

"I need a car with heated seats," she announced. "Does this have the remote car starter, too?"

He noticed she didn't seem uneasy making conversation but chose not to point that out to her.

"It does, and I highly recommend it. Couldn't live without it in the wintertime."

From there, the conversation between them flowed. Emmett recommended a few different vehicles she might want to consider. Rosalie asked questions about what Emmett did for a living. By the time they arrived back at the house, the tension had dissipated and they were chatting like old friends. He noticed the whispers between Edward and Bella, but Emmett opted to ignore them and focused instead on the game. The Giants-Cowboys match-up turned out to be less interesting than he'd hoped. His fantasy team had locked up a victory so when Rosalie showed him her iPhone, Emmett was glad for the distraction.

Citing a need to be up early for work, Rosalie left as soon as the game finished up. After a quiet promise to return the following Monday, she was out the door. Emmett didn't fail to notice the wink that Edward gave him as he escorted his wife outside for their short walk home. 

~MNF~ 

"Bro, I'm not going to gossip with you like we're sixteen year old girls."

"Em, listen, Bella has been driving me crazy all week. Rosalie isn't saying shit to her about you so, you know, I'm supposed to use some weird guy code to pry it out of you."

"She obviously doesn't understand that guy code means we don't tell our wives and girlfriends about what we discuss. Or am I wrong about that?"

"Bella, uhh..., she has ways. I mean, you know how it is."

Without another word, Emmett ended the phone call. He debated pulling into the Lowe's parking lot but instead turned right into Home Depot. The store just felt more "male". _Two Monday nights down, an infinite number to go, _he thought as he pushed the truck into park. The looks Bella and Edward shot him during their second Monday night with Rosalie tempted him to end the tradition altogether. After a week working and not getting much accomplished, he'd decided to engage in some manual labor. The master bedroom and bathroom were his final interior projects for the house and as much as he'd put it off, it was time to get started.

He grabbed a cart and headed toward the bath area. The gentleman, Mike, who usually helped him wouldn't clock-in for another thirty minutes, so Emmett decided to wander to see what jumped out at him. He stopped to admire the clawfoot tub that caught his eye every time he found himself in the section. The price wasn't right and it wouldn't fit with the rest of the house, but he was drawn to the feel of it. The curves, the white porcelain, the masculine details on the tub's feet - he liked the old-fashioned feel.

"You don't strike me as the bubble bath type," said a feminine voice behind him. Emmett was sure he knew who it was, and when he turned to see Rosalie's smile, he was happy to have been right.

"You don't strike me as the type to spend your Saturday at Home Depot."'

"I suppose appearances can be deceiving." Rosalie paused. "What are you doing here other than caressing this nice-looking tub?"

"I guess you could say I'm looking to remodel."

"Your bathroom seemed nice enough."

"Not that one. I'm talking about the master bath. And my bedroom... last two rooms and the house is done."

"You've redone all the other rooms? Yourself?" She followed him toward an aisle with sinks, faucets, and cabinetry.

"Nah, I've had some help. All I need is food and beer and I know at least Edward will show up. Bella actually picked out the kitchen appliances."

"Why's that? I like sink over there better, by the way. Pedestal sinks, like this one, are nice but don't give you storage."

"Thanks, I hadn't thought of that. I don't cook much, not inside anyway. I like to grill, but I'm not skilled in baking cakes or whatever it is people do with an oven. So I brought Bella here and let her loose in the kitchen models. She went on and on about Corian versus granite countertops. "

"Your kitchen is nice, though. Good call to have her help you with it. What's the part of the house you're proudest about?"

Emmett took a moment to think it over and as soon as he remembered the blood, sweat, and more blood that went into a certain project, he had his answer. "Definitely the deck off the back of the house."

"Hmmm, I thought it'd be the den."

"Den?" Emmett wasn't sure what she meant until he realized she meant the family room. "Oh, yeah. I love that room, I do. The system is hooked up thanks to a friend who knows his electronics shit, and it's great for watching a game or movie. But the deck is something my dad and I had talked about doing for years. He helped me design it, and we got township approval for it a week before he passed on."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I really had no idea." She kicked at an invisible item on the ground. Emmett noticed her obvious discomfort.

"How could you? Don't worry about it." Emmett paused to check his buzzing phone. "Anyway, Edward and this weird dude, Tyler, who I worked with at the time, spent an entire weekend helping me build the damn thing. We had to rent a two-man auger and even then it took forever to break through. We'd had no idea the land was so rocky out back. After all that work, actually laying the planks was easy compared to the hard labor of drilling the holes for the support beams."

"I bet your Dad would've loved it." Rosalie smiled at him. "Did you need to take that call?"

"No, ah, just a text message. Pops probably would've hated the deck. I ended up splurging and put a hot tub out there when I got my Christmas bonus last year."

"Well, it makes sense then that you'd have to get that bedroom and bathroom finished. The ladies need a place to go after they get out of the hot tub."

Emmett winced. "That's not how it is at all."

"Sure, it's not." Rosalie rolled her eyes before glancing at her watch. "Listen, I need to get going, but I'll see you around."

"Monday?" Emmett called out to her retreating form. He saw her stop, take another step forward and then twirl around.

"We'll see. Busy time of year at work. See ya." She turned and trotted off, leaving Emmett confused. He pulled out his cell phone again to reply to the earlier text:

_**We need to talk.  
**_

~MNF~ 

"So, what you're telling me is that you can't get a read on the woman? How is this different from any other female?" Edward tipped the Yuengling bottle toward Emmett then downed the rest of his beer while grabbing a wing from the takeout container.

"Damn, save something for me," Emmett smacked Edward's hand away from the pizza box and grinned at his friend. "I don't know why it's different. The first night we all hung out, you saw it, we got along great. Last Monday she didn't say more than two sentences the entire night. And then, yesterday we're talking, I mention the hot tub and she turns cold. Why would mentioning a hot tub be a conversation killer? I know I'm out of practice, but, man, the temperature dropped below freezing."

"Wait." Edward narrowed his eyes. "What exactly did she say after you told her about the hot tub?"

"I don't remember word for word, but she said something about needing to finish the bedroom renovation for all the ladies who use the hot tub."

"So, she called you a womanizing asshole who fucks random women, plying them to your bed using a hot tub as bait?"

"Exactly," Emmet nodded.

"And then she got weird and had to leave?"

"Yep. What's your diagnosis, Dr. Cullen?"

"Well, obviously she sucks at conversation and wants to fuck you."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"She's put herself in hot tub woman's shoes. She's thinking 'If Emmett got me in his hot tub, there's no way I could refuse anything else he might ask of me.' Just like all those other women."

"There are no hot tub women."

"She doesn't believe you. Obviously she doesn't trust you, and from what Bella's said she probably doesn't trust any man. Deny hot tub woman all you want, it's going to take time for her not to imagine other women in your hot tub and in your bed. And for some reason, the thought of you with some wet, sexy woman bothers her so much that she had to end the conversation and leave. So, clearly she wants to fuck you. She wants to be your hot tub woman."

"That makes no sense." Emmett rolled his eyes.

"It makes perfect sense. Now, halftime is over so let's stop acting like teenage girls and watch football like men. And Bella said since I'm here today for Sunday football and you're feeding me, that she'll arrange for food for tomorrow night."

"Beer, too?"

"Of course, preggo loves to go to the beer distributor. They always carry the cases to her car and load them up for her."

"Fucking fabulous, now that's a keeper." 

~MNF~ 

Emmett muttered curses under his breath as he rushed to answer the door. It was too early to be the Monday night crew, and the election was over so it couldn't be any volunteers looking to drum up votes. He'd been in the process of cleaning up the kitchen when the doorbell rang. Apparently, Shorty had smelled something delicious in the garbage and had to check it out for himself.

"Fucking dog, fucking trash, fucking shit." Emmett flung the door open. "Can I help you?"

"Don't you check to see who it is _before_ you open the door? I might've been a serial killer or a crazy stalker ex-girlfriend." Rosalie handed Emmett two bags full of food containers. "Hold on, I need to grab the beer from the car."

Emmett stood dumbfounded as Rosalie ran back to the car and quickly returned with a case.

"It got cold," Rosalie observed as she sauntered past Emmett into the house. "Did you turn the heat on? It feels nice in here." The coat she was wearing slipped down her shoulders and she grabbed it before it fell to the floor.

"Yeah, had to put it on the other night when it dipped below freezing." The closet door clicked shut. "What are you doing here?"

"It's Monday."

"And?"

"Football?"

"Yeah, but you're early. I haven't even showered." He bent his head down and angled his nose toward his shoulder, surreptitiously trying to sniff to see just how bad he smelled.

"Bathroom remodel done already? What do you mean I'm early? It's seven o'clock." She offered a beer and grabbed a soda for herself.

"No, Rosalie, daylight savings time ended yesterday. We _fall back_ so it's six o'clock. Didn't your phone update with the time?"

Rosalie shrugged. "Since I worked the last two weekends, boss gave me the day off. My phone's been off since Saturday night." 

"Computer?"

"Laptop is company-issued. I haven't turned it on since Saturday."

"Television?"

"I, uh..."

"Listen, what's going on? You're not some flaky chick who'll go two days without noticing a time change. What's with the act?"

"I wanted to apologize," Rosalie mumbled. Emmett laughed at the childish behavior.

"Pardon?" He leaned toward her and tapped his ear. "I couldn't hear you."

"I said," she growled, jabbing the straw on the counter in an attempt to remove the paper, "I wanted to apologize but didn't want to do it in front of a crowd."

"Apologize?" Emmett asked incredulously. "Why, what on earth do you have to apologize for?"

"Not going to make this easy, are you?" She balled up the wrapper and flicked it at him, bouncing off his cheek.

"Never," he laughed.

"I apologize for being rude and abrupt on Saturday when I bumped into you at the store. I was agitated over something else entirely, and it was in no way a reflection of your behavior. There."

"Done?"

"Yes. Can we eat?"

"Not yet. I'll accept your apology even though I don't know your deal. You run hot and cold with me and that's alright. I get it. You don't know me well enough to form an opinion, but I will set the record straight. I'm not parading random women through this house. I have too much respect for myself and for women to do that."

"You don't owe me..."

"No, I don't owe you, but when someone misjudges me I try to set the record straight."

"Does it happen often?"

"Yeah."

"Me too," Rosalie whispered. "People think I'm a bitch."

"People think I'm a dumb jock, it's the way the world works. In reality, I'm a thirty year old man with an accounting degree who is an auditor for the largest company in the county, but to most, I'm just the high school athlete who gave up a scholarship to move back home." Emmett grabbed a wing and a slice of pizza and tossed them on his plate. "Why do _you _think people think you're a bitch?"

"I don't talk much. Groups are overwhelming. A lot of the women my age have children and since I don't, I can't offer much to those conversations. And men don't quite understand why a blonde-haired blue-eyed woman would want to be a logistics manager."

"Maybe someday you'll trust me enough to give me the answer." He turned the pizza box toward her. "Now let's eat before the hungry one comes and finishes off the rest of this pie. Eating for two. Bullshit," Emmett grumbled. "She must have a damn football team in there." 

~MNF~ 

It was significantly colder the second time Emmett spent an afternoon raking leaves for Mrs. Cope. Even Shorty had seemed chilled and instead of burning off energy was lounging in the sunny spot on the patio. Emmett didn't mind the cold, but did wonder why autumn had disappeared suddenly. The crunching of leaves alerted him that someone had decided to join him.

"That dog of yours isn't very helpful today." The thermos Mrs. Cope handed him had steam rising from the vent. Emmett took a sip and could feel the hot chocolate warming his body.

"Say whatever you want about Shorty, just keep refilling this thermos."

"Wouldn't be so cold if you'd bothered to wear gloves. But oh no, had to show what a man you are and do without."

Emmett didn't have the heart to explain that the sueded work gloves he'd owned had been his dad's and that they'd met an unfortunate end the previous winter. "Next time I'm in Home Depot I'll grab a pair."

Shorty lifted his head momentarily when Mrs. C walked over to scratch behind his ears then rolled to his side to allow access to his belly. "That's a good boy. Now, speaking of you being a man," she groaned as she sat down on the bench, "any news on the search for a missus?"

"You doing alright there?"

"My knees, I'm fine. Stop trying to distract me. Tell me about the woman who's been at your house every Monday for over a month?"

Emmett turned around, leaning his chin on the top of the rake's handle. "I didn't know you worked for the CIA."

"Oh, stop. Someone has to keep an eye on who's coming and going around here."

"More like someone has to be the neighborhood busybody."

"She's pretty."

"Yes, she is." The sound of the leaves being pulled into a pile almost drowned out Emmett's reply.

"She brings food."

"Yep." Again, more noise.

"I understand... you don't want to talk about her."

"I don't know what to say." He shrugged off her comment.

"Is there an attraction? I daresay you'd make a nice-looking couple."

"Any couple Rosalie's a part of would be nice-looking."

"So you _do _think she's pretty."

"Who wouldn't?"

"Are you waiting for an engraved invitation? Ask her out already. I need some babies to love." Mrs. Cope shook slightly as she stood up.

"She's a little... skittish." Emmett walked to the patio to help her right herself.

"Well then, break her down little by little. Soon enough, she'll be asking you." 

~MNF~ 

Emmett paced the hallway between his entry and kitchen. The advice Mrs. Cope given had made sense at the time and for the past month he thought he'd been making progress. The evenings they were joined by his other friends, Emmett made sure he stuck close to Rosalie's side. She'd barely said a word the first time Garrett and Peter had stopped by until Peter's wife, Charlotte, had arrived at halftime. He'd been pulling his best high school moves to show that he was interested. A brush of the hand as they arranged food on their plates, a bump of the knee while they sat next to each other on the couch, last week he'd even managed to subtly rest his arm on the back of the couch behind Rosalie's head.

That's where he probably went wrong. She'd left as soon as Baltimore was assured the victory. Even Bella commented when she'd arrived earlier in the evening that she hadn't heard from her friend all week. With the Bears getting set to kickoff, Rosalie was a no-show.

"Em, man, grab me another," Edward's voice rang out from the other room.

Emmett peered through the small window next to his front door one last time before heading back to the kitchen.

"Guess Rosalie couldn't make it." Although he'd tried to conceal it, Emmett knew the disappointment was evident in his voice.

"It's the Monday before Christmas. Kinda makes sense the almighty logistics manager is busy working."

"True, but she could've let you know, Bella. I wouldn't have ordered so much food."

"Don't worry, there won't be leftovers. I have a month left until this child makes an appearance and I'm making the most of it. Besides, this girl at work said the last couple weeks the baby took up so much space that she had no room for food. So for now I'm eating as much as I want."

Emmett smiled to appease the chatty woman and looked over to see Edward's eyes bulging, his head shaking back and forth.

"Didn't the doctor warn you not to gain much more weight, honey?"

Bella's head whipped around and Emmett could tell it wasn't going to be pretty, so he excused himself and hurried from the room with Shorty nipping at his heels.

He pulled the door open in time to see Rosalie hurrying up the driveway. He flicked on the outdoor light and sat down on the porch swing, motioning for her to join him. Pink covered her cheeks and the tip of her nose. Emmett groaned thinking about the other places on her body that would be pink. He shifted in his seat and the movement caused the swing to sway slightly. He'd been so good for so long, but seeing puffs of her breath rising through the night air and the flushing of her cheeks was almost his undoing. He needed to find a way to test the waters, so he slid his hand toward the one she was resting on the seat. At that moment, she shifted too and placed her hand in her lap. Emmett quickly brought his hand back to mirror her position. Shorty also proved to be restless, standing up and turning around three times before settling down in the exact spot as before.

"Is there a reason we're out here?"

"We're avoiding."

"What?"

"I think Bella may be inside inflicting serious harm upon her husband and I don't want to be called to the witness stand."

"Oh no, what did he do?"

"Inadvertently made a comment about her weight."

Rosalie let out a whoosh. "Well, that's just..."

"Stupid? Moronic? A deathwish?"

"All of the above."

Again it got quiet. Emmett leaned his head and closed his eyes. The scent of a neighbor's woodburning stove made him sigh. "Now it feels like winter."

"Just a few more days until Christmas, thank god."

"Busy week?"

"Busy month... it'll be awful the next few days but should die down after. At least I get Christmas day off."

"And only one more Monday night of football after tonight. Next thing you know it'll be time to ring in the new year." Emmett wondered if he'd see her much once the season ended. Sure, he could invite Rosalie for the playoffs and the Super Bowl, but she'd declined all weekend invitations he'd previously extended.

"Yeah, I, about the new year..." Rosalie looked down at the finger she was tapping on the armrest. "Do you have any plans?" The look on his face must've worried her because she started to backpedal. "This guy at work is bugging me to attend his wife's party and normally I'd just use Bella as an excuse and invite myself over, but I don't want to intrude. The baby'll be here soon and they probably want some time alone."

"Alright, so you want me to go to this party with you?"

"God, no." She backpedaled again. "I wouldn't wish that on anyone. I just need a legitimate reason to not attend. So, if I have plans... with you... it'd be a great excuse. I don't want to lie to him. I'd feel guilty eating ice cream in my pajamas while watching the ball drop knowing that he's going to ask me how my night was. Know what I mean?"

"Yeah, sure. We can make plans so long as I can surprise you."

"Surprise me?" Rosalie questioned. Emmett could feel her anxiety.

"Yup, I get to decide what we do. I know the area better."

"Alright, just..."

"Do you trust me?"

"What?"

"I told you before that I hoped one day you would trust me. If you _trust _me, let me plan this."

There was a hesitation before Rosalie nodded her head, but Emmett felt like he'd scored a victory. Ready to face just about anything, he stood up and offered Rosalie his hand. "Let's go see how much blood I need to get out of the damn carpet." 

~MNF~ 

"You're taking her where?" Edward's voice rose an octave.

"Witch's Hat."

"At night?"

"It's not like it's haunted. Will you help me set up?" Emmett had grown frustrated at the multiple requests he'd made for help. Apparently Edward was still in shock about the location Emmett had chosen for the date that he'd yet to give an answer.

"Em, man, I just don't think it's a good idea."

"It'll be fine. Just tell me if you can help out or not."

"Who else would help you do this shit? I'll stop by after lunch."

"Don't give your wife specifics," Emmett warned.

"I'm not that stupid."

"Alright, bro, later." 

~MNF~ 

Emmett spent the morning of New Year's Eve second-guessing his plan. He'd dated before, he'd been in love, but this felt bigger. In his attempt to plan something perfect, Emmett began to wonder if he'd planned someone else's perfect first date. So he changed his mind. Then changed it again. He skipped the wine and picked up beer. The owner of the pub, an old friend of Emmett's father, begrudgingly allowed Emmett to overhaul his order. Laughter on the other end of the line led Emmett to hang up on his best friend. Then more laughter filled his ears when he immediately called Edward back. After begging and promising to assist in the assembly of all baby products, Emmett had Edward's word, once again, that he would assist Emmett before Rosalie arrived.

The two men drove up the mountain as far as they could before parking the car on the side of the road. They marked a trail the remainder of the way to the old pavilion that stood on what once had been resort property. The hotel and its luxury amenities had long-ago burned to the ground. Only the pavilion remained, the name Witch's Hat appropriate given the roof shaped like a cone.

With the set-up done, Emmett returned home and waited until it was time to pick up the food. When the alarm on his phone chimed indicating it was time to leave to complete the rest of his errands, he was grateful for something to do. The pub was crowded and Emmett cursed as he tried to find parking that wasn't metered. Inside was worse,the bar already filled with patrons ready to ring in the New Year. The bartender waved him over, pulled the bags of food out and handed them over, reminding Emmett they were on the house.

Mrs. Cope waved when Emmett drove by her house. He quickly put his hand up to wave back and noticed the wink she sent his way. Noticing the black car parked in front of his house, he realized that Rosalie had arrived while he was out and that Mrs. Cope knew their hanging out was outside the Monday Night Football tradition. The inquisition would not be fun.

She was wearing red and Emmett noticed her picking at her nails, chewing on the pinky occasionally. The smile he saw told him that she was both relieved and happy that he'd pulled into the driveway.

"You been waiting long?" Emmett grabbed the bags of food from his trunk and slammed the door. She was so... pretty sitting on the porch swing all blonde hair and bundled up in cold weather attire.

"No, only a few minutes. Shorty's going crazy inside though. He must've heard my car." Rosalie stood and Emmett's gaze swept over her body. "Is this okay?"

"Perfect. But before we go out, I was thinking we could eat." He held up the bags of food and turned to look behind him. "Can you grab my keys?"

They danced around each other and Emmett felt Rosalie's warm breath flare out over his neck as she retrieved the keys from his back pocket. He took a step closer to her and the door as she fumbled to find the right key. "It's the silver key with three cutouts in the top." She turned to smile at him when she pushed the door open, and Emmett wanted to just lean in and kiss the lips he'd spent months thinking about. Instead, he had to fight off his dog who had jumped up to greet his visitor. After banishing Shorty to his crate, Emmett went about preparing plates of food while Rosalie took care of the drinks. They worked quietly together in the kitchen: opening cabinets, retrieving plates and glasses, taste-testing. When Emmett noticed Rosalie moving into the family room with her plate and glass, he motioned for her to follow him.

The dining room was small and had only enough room for the table and a hutch. There was no floral centerpiece or fancy candelabra adorning the table. A tablecloth, red for the holidays, had been draped over the wooden table. The chair at the head of the table and the one to it's right had place-settings and Emmett allowed Rosalie to pick her seat then slid into his. The conversation was light. Emmett talked about the pub where he'd picked up the food and how the bartender had once tried to show him the proper way to pour a Guinness from the tap. It was then and there that Emmett decided bartending was not the career for him. Rosalie filled him in on her Christmas day spent with her college roommate.

Though the conversation flowed effortlessly, Emmett was tense. He hadn't realized how intimate it would feel to share a meal alone with Rosalie. It had been years since he'd actually sat down at the table to eat. He'd done homework there as a boy and used it as his makeshift desk when he paid bills on Tuesday night. But family meals in the dining room had ended when Mama McCarty passed away. After that, the island in the kitchen sufficed. When Rosalie questioned him about their plans for later in the evening, he'd been lost in a memory of his dad's last New Year's Eve. Luckily, Rosalie laughed off his apology.

Their late dinner finished and the food put away, Emmett announced it was time to leave. Bundled up, they made their way to Emmett's truck. Shorty climbed into his backseat and panted from the excitement.

"When I was growing up, my mom and I had a dog and she hated the car. Guess Shorty's different."

"Loves it. That dog lives for car rides."

"I need to know... why is that sweet pup named Shorty?"

"There's a bar up in New York City - I went to school up there for a couple years - and it has these great Philly cheese-steaks. It was also guaranteed to be showing the Phillies or Eagles games. I spent a lot of time there for the two years I was gone. The name of the place is Shorty's, and it just kind of stuck out as a good name for a dog."

Rose looked over at him thoughtfully. "I like it. Now... how about you tell me where we're going?"

Emmett laughed at the topic change. "Alright, since you're trapped here in the car I'll tell you. We're going up the mountain to a place my dad and I spent New Year's Eve every year until I was a teenager and too awesome to spend time with him."

"I'm sure he understood."

"He did. Which is proof that he was far more awesome than I gave him credit for, but that's how it goes."

"So, will it be crowded... tonight?"

Emmett held back a laugh. "No, we'll be the only ones."

"Only? What kind of place is empty on New Year's Eve?"

"A rundown stone pavilion on the top of a mountain." He waited for her reaction, but she remained silent and he started to worry that he'd made a mistake. "You don't seem to be a fan of being around a lot of people and it's perfectly safe. I swear I'm not some psycho serial killer." He noticed her body wasn't quite as rigid.

"You do have an axe in your truck bed."

"Do you think I'd be so cliche? I'm way more creative than just a boring, old axe murderer."

"Please don't tell me you've thought about this."

"We're here."

"Where?"

"Well, this is where we get out of the car and walk."

"Are you serious?"

"Is it a problem?"

"No, I... you're an odd one, you know that? Asking a girl to hike up a mountain in the cold and dark of night."

"Believe me, this is worth it," he said while checking his watch. The hike would take ten minutes given the lack of light that meant they'd arrive half an hour before midnight.

"Better be," she grumbled.

Shorty trotted along beside Rosalie, his tail thumping against her thigh with every other step. Emmett took the lead when the trail narrowed and when he noticed her lagging behind, he offered his hand. "You doing alright?" He smiled when she nodded and placed her hand in his. "We're almost there."

"Good, because someone forget to check my footwear and make sure it was appropriate for a hike," she teased, holding out her boots. Emmett followed the shape of the boot and kept going, appreciating the long leg attached to it. "Would you like to look at my other leg? It's just as nice." He snapped his head up when she said that. Rosalie didn't appear angry. Rather, she looked smug. Going with it, he shrugged and took her up on the invitation. She kicked up some dirt when his gaze reached the top of her leg. "That's enough, keep moving."

Emmett heard her gasp when they reached the pavilion and smiled to himself.

"The view is incredible."

"The city isn't all that big, but when I was six years old my dad brought me up here for the first time, during the day, and I was amazed." He'd never grow tired of the view from atop the mountain.

"So... what do we do now?" Rosalie asked as she walked up the brownstone steps into the pavilion. "Oh wow! When did you do this?" She motioned at the small setup Emmett had put together. It wasn't much, just a small table and two chairs facing east. He pulled two thermoses out of the small pack he'd brought with him and handed one to Rosalie. He saw her questioning look and mouthed "boy scout" while pointing to himself. She rolled her eyes, pulled the chair close to the small wall and placed her boot-covered feet on the pavilion ledge. "Really, what are we doing?"

"You'll see in..." he checked his watch again, "eighteen minutes."

"Alright then, let's chat. We've had sort of a shaky start but I... I want to know you."

"Yeah." Emmett moved his chair so it rested against hers. "I want to know you, too," he sighed. The hot chocolate warmed his mouth and throat but the chill was relentless. He grabbed the fleece blanket out of his pack and set it across their laps. "I told you about my dog, now you tell me why you despise hot tubs."

Rosalie brought her hands up to cover her face and shook her head. "I felt like such a bitch after that. I never apologize, so you must know how bad I felt." He nudged his arm over near her armrest and tickled the palm of her hand. After a moment, she wove her fingers with his and squeezed his hand. She didn't let go. "So, uh, my parents divorced when I was young. Dad wanted a son and mom wasn't getting pregnant. He just assumed that she was the problem. Anyway, he's president of a beer distributor out in the western part of the state and has tons of money. I didn't see him often because he was busy traveling and working. Still, I'd visit during the summer. One night, I think I was fourteen, I couldn't sleep so I figured I'd go for a late night swim..."

"And," Emmett encouraged her to continue.

"And... my dad was out in the hot tub doing all kinds of things with a woman who ended up becoming stepmom number one. She also was unable to produce a son."

"Did you come from eighteenth century England?"

Rosalie snorted, "You'd think that. Anyway, I spent more and more time at my dad's house and after his second divorce it seemed there was just a parade of women. The day we bumped into each other, I'd _just _had an argument with him about my job and took it out on you."

"If you didn't get along, how come you saw him more when you got older?"

"My mom worked a lot and when my dad realized that I wasn't some prissy princess, he started grooming me to take over the business."

"So, why aren't you working for him?"

"Because after years of trying to please him and thinking I had no choice, I stopped caring about what he wanted."

"Fair enough." Emmett checked his watch again.

"Did you get the renovations finished?"

"No, I put that off again."

"What's stopping you?"

"You."

She turned to face him, an angry glint in her eyes. "Me? Just because we had a little thing when you were shopping for paint colors or whatever doesn't mean you can blame me for your procrastinating."

"That's not what I meant."

"What _did _you mean?" Rosalie demanded.

"The reason I've put that off for so long is I always hoped by the time I got around to it, I'd be sharing the bed with someone who would give me her input. I'd given up on that until recently. You make fun of me and like football. You're content to hang out with friends and aside from the crack about the boots, not once did you complain tonight. You're smart and not at all what I expected the first time I met you. I've never wanted..." He removed his hand from hers and checked his watch again. "Fuck it." Emmett leaned over, placing the hand that had held Rosalie's behind her head and pulled her close. Their cold noses touching, he looked into her eyes and proclaimed, "I've never wanted anyone the way I want you." With slow, deliberate movement, he tilted his head. His mouth met hers just as the clock struck midnight and fireworks exploded across the sky.

Rosalie pulled away quickly, the sudden movement causing the chair to flip and depositing her on the hard pavilion floor.

"Awww, hell. Are you okay?" Emmett jumped out of his chair and hurried to stop Shorty from licking Rosalie's face as she lay on the floor. The fireworks continued going off and he couldn't hear what she was saying. He was kneeling down on the ground beside her, resigned to writing the night off as a disaster, when he felt a tug on his shirt. Rosalie pulled him down and crashed his lips into hers. Their kisses started out slow, but As the explosions grew louder and more frequent, the kisses intensified until finally Emmett couldn't hear anything at all. He slowed the pace until he stopped and brought Rosalie up to sit on his lap.

"Sorry I scared you."

"I'm not," Rosalie replied. "Sorry we didn't get to see the fireworks."

"That's okay." Emmett kissed her forehead and placed her hand over his heart. "I felt them." 


	12. One Shot from Iwant2sparkle

**Penname**: Iwant2sparkle

**Pairing**: Rosalie & Emmett

**Rating**: M

**A/N: Thanks to the lovely ladies hosting this compilation of Emmett fun and to my beta, thetinkk, and a slew of prereaders: agoodWITCH, EmDempster, jadsmama and mizzdee. Hope you enjoy!

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The tiny, black words on the screen of my laptop taunted me, begging for a reaction. But I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. All I could do was stare at the three short sentences that brought my otherwise normal day to a halt.

_Rose is getting married. Saturday. I'm sorry that I couldn't give you notice sooner._

Who knew that the inbox of my Facebook account could hold a message that would have such a phenomenal impact on my life? I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost noon. On Friday. _Fuck my life_.

The email from Rose's best friend, Alice Whitlock, had been sent the previous night. She went on to tell me about Rose's whirlwind engagement to Royce and the subsequent rushed wedding planning.

This was the first I had heard of the engagement, let alone a wedding. I knew Rose was dating Royce. She was completely upfront with me about him when we met in New Orleans at Mardi Gras in February. That didn't stop us from a weekend full of raunchy flirting and one drunken, lust-filled kiss that might have led to more had we not been interrupted by Alice. At the end of the weekend I headed back to my college life in Austin and she headed back to her perfect, Southern debutante life in Valdosta, Georgia. Not before we had exchanged numbers, of course.

Once we were back in our respective cities, we stayed in touch with one another. If we were not talking late at night on the phone, we were texting each other at all hours of the day. She made me laugh with her witty humor and told me that I calmed her down after dealing with her family all day. Her father was a big wig in their small city and expected his family and children to act as small town royalty should. She expressed many times how restless she was growing while living under her parents' scrutiny. She had been raised to be a trophy wife, nothing more. She had graduated high school with honors, but her parents convinced her to "take a few years off" and see what she could do to help with her mother's various charities and functions. Three years had passed and her parents still refused to acknowledge her interest in college. They would simply point out something that required her immediate attention, distracting her and effectively ending the conversation. She had considered leaving at one point, but could never work up the balls to do it.

Even though neither of us approached the subject of an "us" in our conversations, I stealthily asked about Royce several times. She always answered vaguely, but confirmed that they were indeed still together. I think he was also a factor in her stagnant life.

The only night she went into detail was when she called me after having one too many margaritas while out with the girls. She clued me in on the background of their relationship and how it began with a setup by both of their parents, and continued as an effort to make both families happy. Even though they made every attempt to find things they had in common, there simply weren't any, she confessed.

Honestly, from the way she acted that night, I expected her to break up with him.

"I just don't think he's what I want, or what I need."

Her words had given me so much hope that night. However, the hope I had gained was crushed the next afternoon when I called to check on her and she pleaded with me to ignore anything she said the night before. She remembered talking to me but not the conversation. Rather than pointing out her confessions like a jackass, I chose to keep that information to myself.

Our conversations continued for the next three months. We talked about our childhoods and our dreams for the future. They seemed parallel to each other. Maybe that was one more sign of fate. I did notice that she rarely spoke of Royce when we talked after her drunken tirade.

Our daily discussions suddenly came to a screeching halt about a week ago.

She stopped texting or calling. I sent her a message on Facebook only to receive a short message back that simply said, _Now is not the time._ The next day, I couldn't access her page. I looked up her profile and tried to send her another friend request, thinking that it was just a computer glitch, only to find that she had blocked me. The last text I sent to her was five days ago. It simply said, _What's going on?_ I had yet to receive a reply. Now it all made sense. She was cutting me out of her life.

I instantly accepted the friend request that accompanied the message from Alice and was surprised to see the little green dot show up beside her name, indicating that she was online. Before I could double-click it to start a conversation, a little box popped up at the bottom of my screen.

_**Alice Brandon Whitlock:**_ Please tell me I have the right Emmett.

_**Emmett McCarty:**_ Yeah, it's me. How ya doin?

_**Alice Brandon Whitlock:**_ Let's skip the niceties. We have an urgent matter. Call me. 229-423-5893.

I remembered her being a pushy little thing, but jeez. I dug my phone out of my pocket and dialed her number. She picked up before the first ring ended.

"Emmett?"

"Alice?"

"Thank God. I need you to get here A.S.A.P."

"Wait. What? Where?"

"In Valdosta. Emmett, she loves you. She hates him and honestly, she's a bit scared of him and of her parents. She'll marry him unless you're here to stop her. Please come."

"Alice, there's no way I could make it in time."

"It's Friday! You have until four o'clock tomorrow! Surely, you could find a flight!" It's amazing how people who have constant access to their rich daddy's money don't understand why you can't just book a thousand dollar flight on a whim.

"Alice, you don't understand. An airplane ticket would be ridiculously expensive on such short notice. I don't have that kind of money to just throw around on a chance that I might be able to change her mind."

"Emmett, please. There is no 'might'. I know she wouldn't do it if you were here. She told me everything about you guys. The conversations, the texts…do you really think they meant nothing to her?" She paused as I contemplated her words. "If she marries him, it'll be the biggest mistake of her life." Her anxiety was evident in the sound of her pleas. I sighed noisily and reached over to grab my laptop. I quickly keyed in an airline's web address in the bar.

"Alice, how do you know I could even stop her? She doesn't love me," I said distractedly. I was busy searching for information for a flight from Austin to Valdosta. The prices on the screen sent me into a panic attack as I mentally calculated how they would impact my savings account.

I heard her getting all huffy on the other end. She was losing patience with me. "Did you not hear me earlier? Yes, she does, Emmett. She told me." My fingers halted and hovered over the keyboard.

"She told you? When? Why didn't she tell me?" This was news to me. Of course, I knew that I really liked Rose. But I had no idea whether she reciprocated those feelings or not.

"Last night. She tried on her gown one last time and when she went to check herself out in the mirror, she broke down sobbing. She confessed that all she wanted was you, but in order to save you from any heartache due to her stupidity, she cut off all communication with you. It was her way of saving your heart because she knows that you feel the same way. Please, Emmett. Please come save her from herself."

I was silent for a few moments before answering.

"Let me think about it. I'll call you back." I shut my phone without waiting for her answer, sat my laptop back on the table and buried my head in my hands. That was how my sister, Bella, and her boyfriend Edward found me when they arrived at the apartment that Edward and I share.

"Why so down, Em?" Bella asked as she plopped down beside me on our old, ratty couch. I didn't respond, simply reached over and picked up my laptop, brought up my Facebook message screen and placed it in her lap. Bella knew about my feelings for Rose. We had spent hours talking about it. She would understand.

I watched her eyes widen as she read the words in the message screen and the chat box.

"Did you call Alice?" I nodded. "What did she say?"

I blew out a gust of air and propped my elbows on my knees.

"She said Rose loves me. And unless I try to stop her from marrying Royce, the wedding will go on as planned."

"Call Rosalie." Why didn't I think of that? I picked up my phone and held down my number four button to dial her number. It went straight to voicemail.

"Rose, please, please call me." I hit the end button and tossed my phone on the table with a frustrated sigh.

"Is there any way for you to go there?" she asked, mostly likely already knowing the answer.

"I checked for a flight out tomorrow. A roundtrip is almost nine hundred dollars. I just don't have that kind of money, Bella. You know that." Of course she did. She was working her way through school just like I was. Our parents weren't wealthy at all. We were lucky enough to be academically blessed and receive the scholarships we did. Even though I had not lost my athletic scholarship after I tore my ACL in a game my freshman year, I still had to rely on federal aid to help with my supplies and a job at the local gym to pay for my living expenses. Our parents helped us out where they could, but otherwise, we were on our own.

"I'd help you out if I could, Em." I looked over to see my sister's big brown eyes full of sympathy. Not what I wanted right now. Bella and Edward had gone to New Orleans with me and had listened to me babble on and on since February about how great Rose was. They knew how I felt. They knew what was at stake here.

"You know," Edward piped up from the recliner on the other side of the room, "you could always road trip it."

"Dude, there's no way my truck would make a trip like that. It's in the shop once a month as it is."

"I know your truck wouldn't, but my car would." I abruptly sat straight up and whipped my head toward him.

"Hear me out," he started. "Classes just finished. We're all relatively free for the next few days. I mean, you could take a few days off from the gym, right?" I nodded. He looked over to Bella. "Think you could sweet talk Mrs. Cope into letting you off for a few days? Surely she isn't that busy."

"I'm sure I could. She just hired Angela to help out. I'm sure she'd appreciate the extra hours. I'll call her now." Bella disappeared from the room while dialing the number to what I assumed was the bookstore.

"Dude, there's no way we'd make it in time." I couldn't believe that we were actually considering this.

"How far is Valdosta?" he asked.

I studied his face and realized that he was completely serious. When I didn't move to look up the necessary information, he got up, grabbed the laptop out of my lap and began typing.

"Google maps says it'll take about 16 hours. So, if we leave in, say, a half hour, we could drive 10 or 12 hours tonight, stop and rest, and finish the trip tomorrow. If the wedding isn't until that afternoon, we should have plenty of time."

Bella came back into the room, confirming that she could indeed take a few days off. Were we really going to do this?

"What about gas money? Do you get good mileage?"

"Dude, it's a Volvo. It gets fantastic mileage. Besides, I have a gas card my parents gave me. We can charge the gas and pay it off when the bill comes. The only thing we'll have to worry about is splitting a hotel and food. You can cover that, right?" I nodded silently. "Then let's do it." Bella snuggled up next to him, dreamy-eyed and swooning over his offer to help me out in a time of need.

I grabbed my phone and dialed the number before I could change my mind. Was I really about to cross six states to stop the woman I love from marrying another man? Yes, yes I was.

"Hello?" Alice's panicked voice floated across the line.

"Alice, I'll be there tomorrow. Give me details."

Ten hours and forty-seven long minutes later, we pulled up to a La Quinta Inn on the outskirts of Mobile, Alabama. We pooled our money and were able to book a room with double beds while dealing with a sicko desk clerk that was giving us the stink eye. Fucking pervert. But I could understand how it looked weird that two guys and one girl were checking in at almost midnight, looking slightly haggard and out of our minds. If he only knew.

Bella and Edward leaned on each other during the elevator ride to the third floor. They walked into the room ahead of me and dropped both of their bags onto one bed. I wrestled with my big brother conscience to keep myself from grabbing Edward by the nape of the neck and throwing him in the hall. But while the thought of my little sister sharing a bed with her boyfriend made me want to bend him into a human pretzel, the thought of sharing a bed with her myself made me cringe a bit more. Besides, it wasn't like I was naïve. I'd heard her sneak out of our apartment in the early mornings more than once. And, come on, they wouldn't do anything while I was in the bed next to them. Hopefully. _Gross._

Edward took an order for a fast food run and left Bella and I to take turns using the shower. None of us were very fond of travel grime and after being folded up in the backseat of that car for almost eleven hours, I was eager to stretch my aching muscles. The thought of climbing back into that tiny Volvo for five to six hours tomorrow morning did not sound appealing at all.

I threw my duffle bag down in the tiny space between one of the beds and the wall and crashed facedown into the mattress. I felt the bed shift slightly and turned my head to see the concerned gaze of my little sister focused on me.

"Em, I hope you aren't wasting your time taking this trip." Her words roused a bubble of panic that I had forced down back in Texas. I know that's not what she intended to do. She was just a caretaker by nature and was looking out for my best interest. She was a lot like our mother.

"You and me both, B." We were both quiet for a few minutes before she moved to get up.

"B?" She turned back, waiting. "I have to know. I have to know whether or not what I feel for her and what she feels for me is real. Otherwise, I'll always wonder 'what if'. So, I need…I need you to help me stay optimistic in this. Otherwise, I'll go crazy, ok?"

Her eyes changed from skeptical to sympathetic in a matter of seconds. She rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet before quickly stooping down to place a chaste kiss on my cheek.

"She'd be crazy not to drop everything and run away with you." A small smile broke through my serious expression. As much as we fought and "hated" each other at times, Bella was my best friend and greatest support through anything I had ever faced. I knew she wouldn't leave me hanging.

"Thanks, sis." She smiled and disappeared into the bathroom.

Edward returned minutes later, arms laden with fast food bags. We both dug into our dinners with a force that only hungry men could accomplish. By the time Bella emerged from the bathroom, we had finished. After a quick shower I crashed on my bed, exhaustion overriding my anxiety.

The next morning, after only about seven hours of sleep, we set out to drive the remaining five or six hours to Valdosta. The wedding wasn't scheduled to begin until four that afternoon, so we made sure to keep plenty of time available just in case something went wrong.

The first leg of our journey was relatively quiet. Everyone was tired and we found a rock station and turned the music up loud to keep from nodding off. We had been driving across Florida for a while when I started thinking about what exactly I planned to do when we arrived at the wedding. I hoped that we would be there with enough time to spare that I could just seek out Alice and get her to pull Rose outside. I didn't want to be the schmuck that objected to the wedding from the pew and confessed his undying love for the bride.

Tons of scenarios were running through my head when I heard a loud pop and felt the car jerk suddenly to the right. Bella shrieked and Edward slowed immediately while trying to maintain control of the car. Once we were safely on the shoulder, I jumped out to inspect the damage. I have no idea what I was expecting to find. I knew a tire had blown. I just needed to see it for myself.

"Do you have a spare?" I asked, as Edward rounded the front of the car to look at the front tire on the passenger's side. He nodded.

"Yeah, it's in the trunk. Let me get it." As he rolled up his sleeves and popped the trunk I leaned down in the open passenger door to check on Bella. She was a little shaken, but seemed ok. Edward and I changed the blown tire to the donut and scrambled back in the car to find the nearest town so that we could get the tire repaired or replaced.

Twenty minutes later, we were at a tiny gas station and repair shop in Bonifay, Florida, talking to a man with a long gray ponytail, wearing overalls, with a lit cigarette dangling from his bottom lip.

"So you blew out a tire, eh?" Edward nodded along with the old man as they stared at the tire with an obvious massive gap in the rubber.

"Yes, sir. And we're in a pretty big hurry to get back on the road. Do you think we could get it replaced quickly?"

"Well, son, I don't think we have a tire to replace that one, but I could send a boy over to Stanley's place in Vernon. I'm pretty sure he's got one. Want me to call and see?" Edward, Bella and I all nodded at the same time. He stepped behind the counter in the little waiting area and dialed a number on the old rotary phone. After five or six boisterous laughs and a bit of small town gossip, we heard him confirm that Stanley's shop did in fact have the tire we needed. As soon as he hung up the phone, I spoke up.

"How far is Vernon from here?"

"'Bout twenty minutes." Forty minutes round trip. Add thirty minutes to replace the tire. We should be out of here within an hour and a half, give or take a few minutes. We would be cutting it close to get to the church on time, but it was doable.

"Ok. I guess we'll just have to wait."

"Sure thing. Michael!" We watched as a greasy-headed, pimple-faced kid emerged from the shop, wiping his hands on a towel. "I need you to head over to Stanley's shop in Vernon and pick up a tire. He knows which one. Don't dawdle around, now. These good people are in a hurry." Michael nodded and grabbed the keys the owner was dangling in his face.

"Yes, sir, Mr. Banner." We watched as he ran out to the old, beat-up red Ford parked in front of the station.

I looked at my watch. Ten twenty-eight. Jesus Christ.

"Well, folks, it's gonna be a little while. There's-"

"How long do you think?" I interrupted.

"About an hour, hour and a half at the most. Like I was sayin', there's a diner next door if you want to have you a bite to eat for lunch. Just leave me your number and we'll call you when it's ready."

Edward jotted his number down for the old man and ushered Bella and me out the door. We crossed the loose gravel lot to the small diner. When Edward opened the door, it seemed like we had stepped back in time. Most of the wooden tables were angled funny, like each was missing a peg on one of their legs. Duct tape held the old, green vinyl on the booths together. A cloud of hazy smoke drifted through the air near the ceiling, wafting from the various smoking patrons sitting together in the far corner of the restaurant that was designated as the "smoking area".

Bella and Edward scooted into the far side of a booth near the door, so I slid in across from them as an older lady brought over menus.

"What can I get y'all to drink today?"

We placed our drink orders and when she left to fill them, the table was silent. I knew they were dying to say something. I could see it in the way they shifted their bodies and the way they were stealing sly, apprehensive glances at one another.

"What is it?"

Silence.

"Spill it, guys."

"We're just worried about getting you there on time, Em."

"It's only," I glanced at my watch, " ten forty-five."

They nodded in unison because that's the kind of couple shit they do.

The little frumpy waitress, Shelly, came back with our drinks and took our orders. My stomach was tied in knots with nerves, so I took it easy and ordered just one cheeseburger with fries. Considering the way it was swimming in grease when it was delivered, that was probably a good thing. But hotdamn, I had never had a more delicious cheeseburger in my life.

"Have you heard from Alice lately?" Bella asked as she plucked a pickle from her plate.

"No. I haven't received a text from her since we left the hotel this morning. I sent her one when we headed out. Rose refused to listen when Alice told her that I was headed their way. She thinks Alice is just trying to keep her from walking down the aisle. She said she wouldn't believe I was coming until I was standing in front of her. I guess she's standing her ground there. Her phone has gone straight to voicemail for the past several days."

"Why wouldn't she answer your calls?"

"Rose is a stubborn person."

"Yeah, but don't you think if she had any inclination that you were interested in her, she might give you a call before she took such a drastic step in her life?"

I shrugged.

"I asked myself the same thing. I don't know, Bella. But I do know that she doesn't love him. And if I had my guess, he doesn't love her. Especially not the way that I love her."

"Awww," Bella cooed. I rolled my eyes but smiled in spite of myself.

We killed time for about an hour and fifteen minutes before walking back over to the shop. I was not thrilled with the news when we got there. Apparently Michael was busy flirting with Mr. Stanley's daughter and lost track of time. He was thirty minutes late getting back. Good news was Mr. Banner, the man in the overalls and owner of the shop, wasn't charging labor for changing the tire due to Michael's negligence. Bad news was it was going to be probably closer to two hours before we got back on the road. We would definitely be pushing it now.

It was exactly two hours by the time we were back on the road and headed to Georgia. Time ticked by and before we knew it, we were near the Georgia state line. We veered off the interstate momentarily and stopped at a gas station because in our haste to get out of Bonifay we neglected to fill up the gas tank. As Edward pumped gas, Bella and I walked inside to get some drinks. She grabbed something for them and joined me in a long line. A lady at the front practically dumped her entire purse on the counter as she counted out change to pay for her purchase. I was focused on a row of car magazines stacked up near the counter when Bella spoke up.

"Emmett, what time is it?"

I glanced down at my watch.

"Two twenty-three. Why?"

"Emmett, I think we all neglected to remember a very important detail when we were planning this little road trip." My ears started heating up from the blood pressure slowly creeping up my body.

"What?"

"The time, Emmett. It's not two twenty-three. It's three twenty-three. We've crossed into the eastern standard time zone."

Holy shit.

"That means we only have thirty-five minutes to get to Valdosta."

"Yes," she responded quietly, tears forming in her eyes.

By that time, we were at the cash register. The man behind the counter rang up our drinks as my mind reeled.

"Excuse me, do you happen to know how far Valdosta is from here?"

He never looked up from his cash register as he responded.

"About an hour and fifteen minutes. Possibly quicker, depending on how fast you drive."

I nodded silently, threw a five down on the counter and stalked out the door.

"FUCK!" I screamed as I crossed the lot, earning a dirty look from the woman getting out of her van.

"What's wrong?" Edward asked, leaning against the car as I reached it. I shook my head, yanked the door open and climbed in the backseat.

I couldn't bring myself to explain it to him. Once I said it out loud, there was no escaping the reality. It was over. We had come all this way only to be fucked over by time zones. I could hear Bella's muffled voice explaining the situation to him. It was hopeless. We'd never get there on time.

The front doors opened and Edward and Bella climbed into their seats. The car started immediately and we took off at an absurd speed.

"Edward, dude, slow down!"

"You just sit back there, lover boy, and keep quiet. We're going to get you to that church."

We stopped at a red light, waiting to get back on the interstate. Edward reached up and started pressing buttons on his radar detector, turning it up to full volume. Minutes later we were back on the interstate, weaving through traffic and racing toward Valdosta.

"Emmett, call Alice and tell her that you're on your way. Weddings never start on time but see if she can stall it any." Bella was always full of great ideas. I picked up my phone and started to dial, but the numbers were not lighting up on the screen. The phone was dead. I chuckled at the absurdity of it all. Just my luck.

"My phone is dead. And before you ask, no, I don't have my car charger."

"Did you write down her number?"

"No, Bella. There's no way to get in touch with her." I laid my head on the back of the seat, rubbing my eyes with my fists in an effort to ward off the massive stress headache I could feel creeping up. This was just not my day.

To my enormous surprise, we reached the edge of Valdosta right at four. Edward was still driving at an excessive speed, but had to slow once we hit downtown traffic. My knee bounced nervously as my eyes darted around the downtown area, not really taking in any of the scenery. I was constantly looking at my watch as the minutes ticked by. Edward maneuvered the car through the blocks according to the instructions Bella was reading from the printout off of Google maps.

"Turn left here, Edward. It should be right up the street." I looked at my watch once again. It was now four sixteen here. If I was going to have my moment with Rosalie, I had no choice but to be the asshole that flew through the doors, proclaiming his love for the bride and stopping the wedding. The question was how the bride would react. Would she be pissed at me for interrupting her moment? Would she run to me and jump in my arms? Would all the groomsmen rush down the aisle and tackle my ass for trying to ruin their friend's happy day? Worse yet, would they already be married?

"Right there, Emmett!" Bella pointed to the steepled building two blocks ahead of us. I could see cars lining the street and a pristine white limousine waiting for the happy couple to emerge.

The car had barely stopped before I jumped out, flying across the street and dodging a car at the last moment. The driver had a few choice words for me, but at the moment, that was the least of my concerns. I raced up the steps and through the double oak doors. The next set of doors that faced me were the ones I had been waiting to see for over 24 hours now. The only thing left to do was open them. My hands gripped the polished brass on the white wood, and with a deep breath, a bowed head and a pounding chest, I pulled open the doors to the sanctuary.

Expecting every head to turn and every set of eyes to be focused on the man that dared to interrupt a sacred joining of hearts, I squeezed my eyes shut as I stepped through the doorway. The sight that met me when I pried them open was not at all what I was expecting, but it did nothing to comfort my worst fear.

The stage of the sanctuary was empty. People were milling around in the pews, talking in groups. I looked down the pale green carpeted aisle to see a line of white fabric littered with pink flower petals running all the way down to the foot of the stage. Was I too late? Bella had said that weddings always started late. Was this one an exception? Of course, that would be my luck.

An elderly lady was slowly making her way down the aisle toward me. She saw me standing there and motioned for me to come help her. As much as I wanted to ignore the manners my mother had beat into me as a child so that I could seek out Rose, I couldn't do it. So I met her halfway down the aisle. Her frail arm wrapped around mine and her hand rested on my forearm.

"Thank you, dear. I just can't get around like I used to." I smiled down at the little old woman dressed all in blue. With her jewels on her hands and tiny hat on her head, she was the epitome of old southern money.

"You're welcome, ma'am."

"It's a shame all of this is going to go to waste now, isn't it? Such a lovely setup." She tsked.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean, ma'am. I just arrived. I was running a bit late."

"So I see," she said, obviously meaning that my outfit of a polo shirt and jeans was not exactly wedding attire. My curiosity was boiling over.

"So, what did you mean by it all going to waste? Did the ceremony not happen?" Could I be so lucky?

"Oh, no, dear. It most certainly did not. That trashy woman. Not my great-granddaughter, of course. That other woman. I always knew his family was just trash with money. You can't buy class. Obviously."

Other woman. Things were looking up for me.

"Ma'am, do you happen to know where the bride may be?"

"I'm sorry, I don't. She took off up the aisle in tears. The bridesmaids rushed out after her. I'm sure they're all around here somewhere. Oh, look, there's my husband now." She gestured to a gentleman in a suit coming through the outside doors. "Thank you, honey. I sure hope Rosalie moves past this ordeal and finds someone who will treat her better than that little nitwit treated her. She deserves so much more." I quietly snorted at her use of "nitwit".

"You're absolutely right. She deserves the world." We stopped and she looked up at me. She pursed her peach-colored lips and then smiled softly. Giving my arm a little pat, she left me and walked to join her husband. As they disappeared out the doors, I turned and headed down the long corridor of the church.

I walked rapidly, passing hoards of people and peeking in open doors. As I neared the end of the hall, a small, familiar dark head appeared in my path, her eyes focused on an empty blue tissue box.

"Alice?"

Her head snapped up and a brilliant smile broke out on her face.

"Emmett! Thank God you're here!" She grabbed me by the hand and led me through a doorway, stopping briefly to replace the empty tissue box with a full one from a table. She steered us down a short hall and paused in front of a glass door that led outside to a small courtyard in the middle of the church. She didn't need to point out the person we were looking for.

There on a small concrete bench, surrounded by yards and yards of gauzy white fabric, was my Rosalie. She faced the opposite wall, but I could tell by her posture that she was crying. Her shoulders were hunched over and I could feel the heavy weight of defeat in the air as Alice shoved the box of tissues in my hand and pushed me out the door.

"Alice, I told you that I just needed to be left alone for a few minutes."

"I'd be happy to leave you alone, but I didn't come all this way to sit in a chair and twiddle my thumbs."

As I spoke, she gasped quietly and whirled around the face me. The violet hue of her eyes startled me. I had forgotten how vibrant they were in the months since we had seen each other. Now, shiny with tears and surrounded by an outline of smudged black makeup, they stood out remarkably against her fair skin.

"You _did_ come."

"Of course I came. I came as soon as I knew. Although, if you would've answered your phone, you would've know sooner and could've avoided all this," I replied as I gestured toward the inside of the church with my hands. She laughed quietly, but her laughter quickly turned to tears again.

"Hey, hey…I didn't mean to upset you." I joined her on the bench, rubbing her back in comfort.

"This whole day has been a disaster!" she cried. "Alice told me you were coming, but I didn't want to believe it. Then my mother convinced me that Royce was the best for the 'reputation of my family', because he was such a respectable citizen of the town. And they only want what's best for me. And because I'm such an _idiot_, I did what I thought was best. And then, _then_, Emmett, his step-sister…_step-sister_, stands up when they ask for objections. You know what she says?" I assumed that was a rhetorical question because her tirade continued without waiting for an answer from me. "She's pregnant. By him! Of course he denied it at first, but when he finally conceded that it could be a possibility, I was physically ill. I rushed out of the church and straight to this bench. I refused to talk to anyone except Alice. I don't know if Royce is even still here or not. I'm sure his father is ready to kill him. That's what he gets for marrying a slutty wife with a trampy daughter, I guess. Come to think of it, maybe the attraction to tramps is a family trait."

"Well, _you_ aren't a tramp."

"Hell, no, I'm not a tramp. He used me. He used me for my family's connections. How could I be so stupid?" Her crying changed from being fueled by heartbreak to being fueled by rage. She jumped up, yanked the veil off her head and started pacing as best as she could. Actually, because her dress was huge and the path was small, it looked like she was simply turning in circles.

"God, I'm just so mad! At him! At myself! At my parents! I spent all this time and effort trying to make this relationship work, ignoring my heart when it was leading me somewhere else." She glanced pointedly at me.

"We all waste time, Rosalie. But we learn from our mistakes and move on. You can't get that time back. But maybe you could stop ignoring what your heart is telling you now and follow it. I did. It led me here." Her gaze lingered on me a moment before she stepped over to where I was sitting. I stood, towering above her even though she was taller than the average woman. She reached out and clasped our hands together.

"The thing is, I was about to object myself. Deep in my heart I knew I couldn't say 'I do' to him. Not when in the back of my mind I was hearing your voice, your laughter. I knew where my heart was and it definitely wasn't in that sanctuary. But now that I realize that, I'm afraid that the stupidity that led me to the alter will overshadow whatever motivated you to come all this way." She paused and bowed her head, seeming to study our hands.

"Rosalie, look at me." She finally raised her chin and met my gaze cautiously. "You crazy girl, I knew what you were doing. I was afraid that I had misunderstood the emotions between the two of us and would embarrass myself in front of you. But I was determined to stop the wedding because I _had_ to know. At this point, I'm just glad that I didn't have to barge down the aisle and yank that asshole off the stage. Because I would've." She cracked a grin at what she thought was a joke. I was dead serious.

"Rosalie, I feel like such a jerk for telling you all of this right now, considering what is going on. But it can't wait. I love you. And I think you love me, too. I don't know how this will work with us being so far away from each other, but I want to try to make it."

"You're rambling, Emmett." She reached behind my neck and leaned up as she brought me down, our lips meeting in a chaste, but firm kiss. "I do love you. I've always known it, I think, ever since the drunken night on Bourbon Street. I just didn't want to admit it to myself."

"So, what do you want to do now?" I asked quietly as she rested her head against my chest.

"Well, first…I want to get out of this dress." We both laughed quietly. "Did you rent a car at the airport and drive here?"

"Uh, no…we actually drove." She jerked back and stared up at me with a look of suspicion.

"We?"

"Oh! Bella and Edward are with me! Shit, I have no idea what happened to them. I should probably give them a call."

"Wait. You guys _drove_ from Austin?" I nodded. "Are you crazy?" she exclaimed.

"Little bit. But it was worth it. I'll have to tell you all about our trip later."

"God, how long did it take you?"

"Eh, around sixteen hours. We left yesterday and stopped overnight." Her eyes bore into mine, thoughtful and contemplative.

"I can't believe you guys did that…for me."

"I did it for us, Rose."

She gripped her arms around me and hugged with much more force than I thought she was capable of.

"Come on," she said quietly. "Let me go get changed. Then we can get out of here and go talk somewhere." I followed her back down the corridor and escorted her to the bridal suite where Alice was waiting.

"You know," Alice began, "you kept her waiting long enough."

"Sorry about that. I got here as quick as I could." I flashed a smile at them both and informed Rosalie that I was going to find Edward and Bella before ducking out of the room. I looked around the vestibule and stepped outside the church doors to peer in the street. I saw Edward's silver Volvo parked down the block but didn't see them anywhere.

I rushed back and timidly knocked on the door of the bridal suite. Alice appeared and agreed to let me borrow her phone, so I called Bella and informed her of the events that had taken place. She and Edward had found a little shopping village down the street and were currently preoccupied in an old book store. They told me to take all the time I needed. While I handled my business, they planned to explore the southern charm of downtown Valdosta. I promised to call Bella and inform her of my plans. She saved Alice's number in her phone and promised to let me know of any changes in their plans, also.

I had just hung up when Rose stepped out the door in her jogging suit. Her hair was still in curls, but she had pulled it back into a ponytail. The makeup was wiped from her face and her tears were gone.

"Ready?" she asked. I nodded and followed her out the back of the church to the parking lot.

"Rose!" Her head whipped around to a group of people standing off to the side. "Rose, please let me explain." A guy about my age, who I assumed was the former groom considering he was still dressed in a tuxedo, came running over to Rose and me. I immediately assumed a defensive posture and was ready to kick his ass for what he had put her through. Her soft touch on my arm eased my anger, though, and she stepped up to him. He eyed me speculatively but refocused on her when she reached up and gave him a small hug.

"Thank you," I heard her say. Her words shocked the hell out of me. "You have no idea how relieved I am that Irina stopped us. We would've been making a huge mistake. You and I both know that."

"Rose, I swear-"

"Shhhh." She placed a finger over his lips to silence him. "Let it go, Royce. It's over." I saw resignation wash over him. He kissed her briefly on the cheek, which made me steam a little, and let her go. She turned to me, grabbed my arm and placed her hand in mine.

"Ready?" she asked me once more.

"Just waiting on you."


	13. Drabble from Conversed

**Name**: Conversed

**Title**: The Prime Number Rule.

**Rating**: M

**Pairing**: Emmett / Jake.

**Summary**: When you are less than whole, what can make you complete? A set of drabbles following the Prime Number Rule.

**The Prime Number Rule.**

_A __**Prime Number**__ is a whole number, greater than 1, that can be evenly divided only by 1 or itself._

**One.**

Was I a whole number before I met him?

I'm not really certain. It didn't feel that way. I can't get my head around 'before'.

I worked, and I was good at what I did. I went home on Sundays, and ate with my mom. I fixed stuff that Dad had left undone, trying not to think too hard about how angry I was with him for leaving. I shopped with Alice, and smiled at her stories.

I went on dates, I had fun.

I know I had a life before we met.

But was I a whole number?

No.

**Two.**

Everyone paired up.

Even people who seemed so happy being single hooked-up in the end.

I didn't notice 'til I was at yet another wedding. It's lucky I like cake so fucking much because for two summers straight, I ate it in too-dark restaurants, in too-wet backyards, and one time I ate a slice of wedding cake with Elvis, outside a drive-thru chapel in Vegas.

I went home nearly every Sunday. Mom asked about the weddings, and I told her while she nodded, not really listening. She just waited for her turn to condemn.

I understood. She was bitter.

**Three.**

Three weddings over one too-warm July weekend.

Two of them on the same day.

I sat with Mom at a table near the back of the hall, people-watching as we sipped sour white wine. Mom fanned herself, endlessly. We saw the same people who had been at the wedding the day before. It was predictable.

I clock-watched, desperate to get away.

We shifted from side to side as the help cleared the table around us, the only people not dancing. I slipped my jacket off and sniffed a little.

His voice was warm in my ear:

"You smell great."

**Five.**

Five weeks later, I saw him talking with another waiter in yet another hotel hallway.

He was laughing, and tying on an apron as I passed by, looking for somewhere quiet to make a call. I caught his eye for a second, then looked quickly away.

Later, I said goodbye to my date, taking a cell number I wouldn't call. I stood in the lobby, making excuses, saying goodbye.

I had no reason to go back, but I couldn't make myself leave yet. I waited outside the kitchen, feeling stupid.

He smiled right at me, like he knew me already.

**Seven.**

Seven days later, I met him after work.

He laughed and said he wanted to go out dancing, but needed to get changed first. His room was amazing: every inch of wall-space was covered with postcards.

Travelling was his thing, he said. He grew up next to the ocean, and always wondered where the ships went. When he finished high school, he found out for himself. His last post was as a steward on a cruise ship in the Caribbean. But he was done, he said.

He was going back to college the next week.

He was home for good.

**Eleven.**

We met at eleven, the next Saturday morning. He was yawning and bad tempered, then sorry and sleepy. We agreed: there were too many fucking weddings.

He wanted to see a movie, so we sat in the dark, sharing popcorn and milk duds. I could feel the heat from his leg resting against mine.

I wanted to touch him.

His head was heavy on my shoulder: I could hear his snoring over the gunfire. I shifted my arm, smelling his hair while he was sleeping, making him comfortable.

We walked back to his place, fingers brushing, not quite holding hands.

**Thirteen.**

It took thirteen minutes to boil a pot of water, and cook the pasta. His friends left us in the kitchen, taking their beers out to the backyard to shoot hoops before dinner.

I watched him slice olives, and wrinkled my nose.

We kissed until the timer rang, and I stood with my front against the sink, draining the pasta water, taking my time about it, wishing my hard-on away. As his friends laid the table - shouting for bread, looking for pepper - Jake smiled and hummed.

It was easy.

**Seventeen.**

Seventeen days was all it took, from first date to getting a spare key cut.

Mom wasn't bitter.

She told me he was the one.

We woke up in a tangle, then counted the hours until home time; needing to be together. I sat at work, figuring out statistics, calculating ratios, thinking about Jake looking at the ocean from the inside out, instead of from the outside in.

Jake studied every evening. He got stuck on simple shit, but had all the answers to my complex questions.

I taught him about prime numbers, and he told me I was his. 

~~o0o~~

_A __**Prime Number**__ is a whole number, greater than 1, that can be evenly divided only by 1 or itself._


	14. One Shot from Truceover

**Penname: TruceOver**

**Story Title: Written in Stone**

**Pairing: Emmett & Edward**

**Rated: M**

**A/N: Big thanks to **_**dellaterra **_**for all of her hard work betaing this. Also, thanks to s**_**mallandirritating.**_**..every time I hit a dead end she showed me the way.

* * *

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**Written in Stone**

People laugh when I tell them that I have one of the most depressing jobs in the world.

"_What are you, a dentist?" _

"_No. I make gravestones."_

They usually shut up right away, and then nod slowly, as if they understand. But really, they have no idea what it's like to sit there and carve someone's name so permanently onto a piece of stone, inscribing the official _The End_ into the story of their life.

I work for a graveyard. It's not a funeral parlor; there are no dead bodies in the basement. There are, however, hundreds of them right outside my workshop window. I sit with my back to the window, leaning over my worktable, and carve out every letter, every number, with care. There are modern ways of doing this, of course. Machines that cut intricate designs into granite or marble. But our small town hasn't quite caught up yet.

While I work I try not to think…of them. I try to make myself numb to the fact that just days ago these people were alive, and now they're not. I think about my grocery list, or the football season. It's a challenge to myself to see how long I can avoid thinking about the person I'm making the headstone for.

But some things, I can't avoid. A name. A date. I can't escape these facts. I start with the date. I suppose it's like taking off a band-aid. Who is waiting for this headstone? An old man who lived his life to the end? A child whose life had only begun? It's the babies that are the hardest, and I always cry for them, no matter how hard I try not to. I cry for the mothers who carried them for months, I cry for the fathers who may not have held them at all. I cry for the siblings who will never know what could have been.

Once the date is done I move on to the inscription. _Beloved Mother. Friend to all. Forever in our hearts. _Some inscriptions are simple, no quote, no endearing words. I wonder about those. Is there nothing good to say about this person? Perhaps it was just too hard to think of something...enough…to sum up this person's life?

I always save the name for last. Sometimes I have to start over again, finding that I didn't leave room for the entire name. But I don't change the way I do things. I can't. If I need to, I just start over again. Because knowing the name of the person who died as I carve their stone is just too hard. It means I have a name to their story. Instead of _beloved mother_, it's now _Cynthia – beloved mother, friend, forever in our hearts_. And that just hurts too much.

Today the sun is rising in the sky, the birds chirping happily, completely ignorant of the task I must complete. In my calloused hands I hold up the work order outlining the details of the next stone. It's a rush order, which I find odd, because really, shouldn't these all be made in a hurry? No one wants their loved one's grave to sit unmarked, as if the person has been forgotten. This time though, the customer has paid extra – they need it right away.

I run my fingers over the smooth piece of stone. It's small, not meant to be upright, but to lay flat. A perfect rectangle with a simple carved border.

I finish the date first, just like I always do. _February 1, 2007 – May 12, 2010_. Three years old. I can feel the tears form, but I push them back, and think about my bills.

I follow with the inscription. Loved Deeply. Always Remembered. The words tear at my heart, and I feel raw as I carve. I try to think about the work I have to do on my truck this weekend.

I reach for the work order one more time, and finally I look at the name. What I see stops me cold.

_Emmett_

My own name stares up at me from the piece of paper. For a moment, I am transported to some alternate universe where I'm looking down at myself, wondering what I will do next.

I take a deep breath, then another.

Coincidence.

Of course it's a coincidence. This is not some sort of sign from the universe telling me that I will die soon. I don't believe in such things. There is not some master plan that has predetermined my life. Things are not written in stone. My life is what I make it - I firmly believe that.

And how could I believe otherwise? The idea that a child, like this one, Emmett, was meant to die young…I refuse to believe it.

I shake my head, and tell myself to move on, get this done. I can't, however, with just a first name. I pick up the work order, and then the office phone, and dial the number listed for Mr. Edward Cullen.

"Hello." A man answers. His voice sounds dead, not as if he just woke up, just…as if there isn't any life left in him. It's obvious that he's grieving. I take a deep breath before I speak.

"Hello, this is Forks Cemetery. I'm sorry to bother you, but we're making Emmett's gravestone."

I hear him catch his breath. "Yes?"

"The name we have is just…Emmett. There is no last name."

"That's right. Emmett," the voice answers shakily.

I pause, and I almost want to ask again. But he seems clear; he understands, and this is what he wants.

"Alright then. It will be done later today," I say firmly. I resolve to stay as late as I need to, hoping that it will help this man bring some closure to his loss.

He thanks me quietly and hangs up, and I stand there for a minute, the dial tone in my ear and the name below me practically jumping off the page.

I remind myself that I have a job to do. I pick up my tools and begin, taking care with each letter as I go, trying not to think of this Emmett. But I can't help it. I picture a small version of myself, running around playing, happy…and then nothing. I picture other versions of Emmett as well, blonde and blue eyed, or maybe he was a redhead. I push the images away and think about my grocery list. Every attempt at distraction is unsuccessful, and the tears fall down my face onto the stone as I work. Three years old.

It's late when I finish, the sun already setting, but I need for this to be over. I look at the order again and see that the stone is not for the Forks graveyard. Occasionally, we make gravestones for other towns and I deliver them in the company truck. I don't recognize this address, but I see that it's not too far.

I'm tired and I want this day to be over with so that I can go home to my empty apartment. I'd rather be surrounded by loneliness than death. I carefully load the headstone into the back of the truck and cover it with a tarp. I climb in the cab and turn on the radio, fiddling with it until I realize that nothing will pull me out of this mood. I shut it off and drive in silence until I exit off the highway and follow the road, expecting to see a graveyard at the end. Instead, I see a small white house with shiny gold numbers on the front door. It has blue shutters and a small front yard. There is a silver Volvo parked out front.

This is most definitely not a graveyard, or a funeral parlor. I pull out the work order and double check the address. It's correct. But somewhere along the line a mistake has been made. There is no way I would be delivering a gravestone to someone's home.

I sigh, unsure of what to do. I really wanted to make this delivery today. Maybe whoever lives here can point me in the right direction. I walk up to the door and knock, and when it opens, I gasp. A man, about my age, stands in front of me. His eyes are sad - beyond sad, hopeless. Small pools of green despair, red rimmed with obvious tears. His lips look dry, as if he's dehydrated, and his hair is a chaotic mess of bronze. He looks...defeated. The amount of beauty in his face, mixed with the obvious pain, makes my heart ache for him.

"Hello, I'm from Forks Cemetery. I seem to be lost. Can you –"

"Forks Cemetery?"

"Yes," I say, and before I can continue, he steps out onto the porch.

"You're in the right place."

I give him an odd look, unsure of what to do.

"Where is it?" he asks.

"In the truck," I say, and lead him down the steps. I can't bring myself to ask why he's having it delivered here. I pull down the tailgate, carefully slide the stone toward the front, and then uncover it.

He looks it over, his eyes examining every word, and nods his approval.

"Out back," is all he says. Still confused, I hoist the stone onto the hand truck, and follow behind him as he leads the way. We end up in the backyard, and I really begin to feel uncomfortable. I hope like hell that he isn't some weirdo that wants to bury his kid in the backyard of his house. That can't be healthy. How will he ever move on?

He leads me to a small mound of dirt, pointing to it, as if it's not already obvious where the stone should lay. Uncomfortable as I may be with this, it is my job, so I move the stone to the head of the grave and place it firmly there. The stone settles into the grass and we look down at it from above.

I stand there awkwardly for a moment, able to think of only one thing to say.

"I'm sorry."

He glances at me for a moment, as if he had forgotten I was even there, and sighs.

"I can't believe he's gone."

I nod and move to leave.

"I don't have anyone else," he continues, and I freeze. This man needs me. Well, he needs someone to talk to, so I stay.

"This wasn't supposed to happen."

I nod again, but it is becoming too much, and I want to leave him alone in his grief. I take another step.

"He was the best dog I could ask for."

I freeze, then slowly turn my body to face him.

"What?"

He just looks at me, stunned. As if I'm the one who's being confusing.

"This is for...a _dog_?" I yell, and I feel my face getting hot. I think of the tears I've shed making this gravestone. The child I imagined whose life had ended way too early. But…a dog. All of that was over a pet.

He looks at me in shock, his eyes wide with hurt, but doesn't say a word. I have so many things I want to say to him, but the look in his eyes stops me. Instead I fight to gain control and turn around, stomping off to the truck. He doesn't come after me.

I drive home quickly, and barge into my apartment, with its sparse furniture and white walls. My anger seems to bounce off them, returning to me tenfold. I pace the tiny space looking for a distraction and realize that there is none. Just white walls. And tonight, in my anger, it seems particularly empty. I feel more alone than usual.

I think of the tears that I wasted over a little boy that never even existed. I curse Edward Cullen over and over again. But as I lie awake in bed, all I can see are his green eyes, filled with nothing but grief. This man is in a great deal of pain, and I'm not sure how, but I just know that it runs deep. A lifetime of loss was in those eyes. They haunt me, and I barely sleep at all.

The next morning I'm exhausted, but I climb out of bed and throw on some clothes. There are other things I should be doing with my Saturday morning. Instead I climb in my truck, and before I know it, I'm at his door, knocking.

I hear his footsteps, but then he pauses, and for a moment I think that he's not going to open the door. I can hear the floorboards creaking under his weight on the other side, and I swear that I'm breathing so loudly he can probably hear it.

Finally, he opens the door and meets my eyes. It's obvious that he hasn't slept. His eyes are redder than before, his hair even more of a mess. He's wearing the same clothes. The amount of pain on his face is excruciating, and I am instantly glad that I came back here. I need to make this right.

"I'm sorry," I say quietly. "It doesn't matter if the gravestone is for your dog. What matters is that you loved him. And I'm sorry if I hurt you."

He nods, and looks down, and I turn around to leave. I've said my piece. I don't know if I've fixed the damage that I've done, but I don't think there is anything else I can do.

"Thank you...," he trails off, and then louder, "What's your name?"

I freeze. I've avoided this so far, but I don't see a way out now. I turn around slowly to face him. "My name is Emmett McCarty."

His eyes go wide and his jaw drops open. A flood of emotions washes over his face.

"Emmett." He says my name as if he's testing it out, as if he's never said it before. My feet are rooted to the ground, and I wait. "Emmett," he says again, this time with greater certainty. "Would you come inside for some coffee?"

His eyes are pleading with me as if his life depends on my staying. I can't say no. I can't do that to him, even if he is a stranger with an unreasonable attachment to his dog.

I nod, and he sags in relief. I follow him inside the house. It's a mess. There are dirty dishes everywhere, unopened mail, an overflowing trash can. Books have been pulled from the shelves and left on the floor. There must be ten mugs on the kitchen counter, each with the tea bag still in it. I wonder when he last slept.

He fumbles in the kitchen with the coffeepot, then yanks open the pantry door to reveal almost empty shelves. He finally turns around, embarrassed.

"Sorry, no coffee."

"Water is fine."

He pours water from a pitcher into two glasses, which look to be the last two clean dishes he has, and I follow him into the living room. There is a dog bed in the corner of the room, with several toys scattered around.

He sits on the couch and motions to me to join him. We sit there, not speaking, just staring at each other for I'm not sure how long. It's oddly comfortable. Finally, his exhaustion takes him, and his eyes drift closed.

I watch him for a while, his eyes as they flutter, his mouth open and taking deep breaths. He seems troubled, even in his sleep. I watch, and I wonder about his life, what else he has lost, until I feel my own eyes grow heavy and close.

.~.~.~.

When I wake, Edward's head is against my shoulder and his hand is fisting my shirt. The sun is much higher in the sky; we've been asleep for a while. I sit as still as I can, feeling his breath against my neck, and his chest as it rises and falls. I sit and think, trying to figure out why it is that I'm still here.

He lifts his head, his eyes meeting mine. He tightens his grip on my shirt, and he doesn't even have to ask. I'm staying.

It's an odd day. We don't acknowledge it at all, the fact that just this morning he didn't even know my name. We don't acknowledge that my name itself seems to be the reason he wants me to stay.

I just…stay.

We clean up his house. He does the dishes and the laundry while I find some food in the freezer for us to eat. We return the books to the shelves and I put the dog bed in the garage. That night, as I'm putting fresh sheets on his bed, he comes up to me, and very gently, presses his lips against mine.

I kiss him back softly until he becomes more insistent and begins to undress me. I grab his hand, stopping him, but he pushes it off and continues. I don't stop him this time. I know that he needs this and, for some reason, I need to make him happy. I don't know why, or how, but I do.

We make love that night. I wouldn't call it that if it wasn't, but for some reason I can't explain…it is. So much more than sex, more than just a fuck with a stranger. The feelings I've grown for this man in just one day are so strong. I _need_ to comfort him, protect him. It's an overwhelming truth. And the feel of his body against mine…it's staggering. And when I'm inside him…I feel as if the world might end just from how right it feels.

That night he falls asleep in my arms, his fingers threaded through mine. I kiss his hair and pull him closer, then close my eyes.

.~.~.~.

We quickly fall into a routine. We spend our days working and our nights together. Edward is a photographer, with an office and darkroom in the back of the house. He most enjoys taking pictures of the forest and wildlife, but he makes his money shooting weddings and family reunions. His talent amazes me, the way that he captures each moment so perfectly, but he shrugs it off like it's nothing.

Not a night goes by that I don't stay at Edward's. My belongings gradually make their way to his place; every day it's more and more until one day I see his closet doors opened wide, his clothes pushed to one side, the other side holding only empty hangers. Again, he doesn't have to ask. I cancel my lease and move the rest of my things in.

Months pass, and devastated, grieving Edward is gone. Now he smiles and laughs. We spend our weekends hiking, stopping so he can take pictures of the mountains and trees. We work on the house. We plan a trip to Texas to visit my mother. Our life is happy, secure.

Although…there are times when I can feel him pulling away from me. He will hardly speak for hours at a time, and is completely lost in his own thoughts. One day while we're doing dishes together, I see him staring out into the yard with a distant look on his face. He looks sad, and a little lost. I ask him if he misses Emmett, and if he would like to get another dog.

He looks at me as if I've lost my mind. "Why would I want another dog?"

It hurts a little, as if I'm a replacement for Emmett, but I don't push it. He's happy now, most of the time; that's what matters to me.

So I leave it alone. I leave him to his moods until they begin to last days instead of hours, until the mystery becomes too great. Maybe if I knew more I could help.

One evening we're sitting by the fireplace and I'm pretending to read while he retouches some photos of a happy couple cutting their wedding cake.

"Tell me about your parents," I say firmly. It's not a question. I need to know more.

"What do you want to know?" he asks innocently, as if he's told me all there is when really he's revealed nothing.

I simply raise my brows, letting him know that he's not fooling me. He sighs, shuts his laptop, and turns to face me.

"I never knew my father. My mother, Liz, would never tell me about him, no matter how hard I begged. She would only say that his name was Edward, and that he is dead and it's all there is to know." He has a brave face on but I can see the pain in his eyes. His beautiful green eyes are always the way to see how he's really feeling, regardless of the expression on his face. I lean forward and take his hand in mine, squeezing it softly.

"My mother….was a psychic." He pauses, looking for my reaction, but I say nothing. I really don't know what to say. "She mostly saw people face to face, but when money was tight she would sign up with one of those phone services and do readings in the middle of the night."

I nod, not quite sure what to do with this information. I think of Edward's office, his dark room, even the kitchen, all organized perfectly since the day I first helped him clean up. He is methodical with his photographs, his equipment. Nothing about Edward screams 'son of a loony psychic' at all. I think back on our conversations, trying to remember if I had ever mentioned my disbelief in fate, in the idea that our lives are predetermined. I realized that I had – several times.

No wonder he never told me any of this.

"And she could….see…the _future_?" I ask, treading lightly, not wanting him to stop.

"Yes," he says as he stares at the floor. "She said that she was more gifted than most, but if anyone wanted to, they could see what was going to happen as long as they knew what to look for. She always said that there were signs everywhere; you only had to know where to look and how to read them. She said that most people didn't believe, and if they did, they usually saw what they wanted to. She said that it takes a true open mind to see things right, to see what's coming."

I keep quiet, not sure what to say. I don't have to ask if he believed her. It's all quite obvious now.

"She knew when she was going to die." He whispers the words so softly that I can barely hear them. A chill runs through me, and I hope that he doesn't feel it. "Just over three years ago. She made a will. She left me a letter. Then her car was hit by a semi truck on her way home."

I close my eyes because for just a second I can't stand to see the pain in his own. I open them and there are tears in his.

"She knew. She left me the house. But more importantly, she left me that letter." He sighs and moves in closer to me. "She told me that I would be okay because someone would come into my life that I needed. Someone that needed me as much as I needed him."

I brace myself, scared, but knowing all the same what is coming.

"She told me that I would have Emmett." He looks right at me as he says it, as if this is the ultimate confession. And in a way it is, because it explains so much. I was right. My name. That's why he invited me inside that day.

He closes his eyes, as if he's going all in. And as scared as I am of his confessions, I need to know.

"A week later, I found him. Well, I thought I did anyway. I found Emmett on First Beach on a day that I went to shoot the tide pools. He was tiny, just a puppy. He was just…sitting there. He didn't look lost; he just looked like he had been waiting for me to come for him. I called all the animal shelters and I looked for posters on telephone poles. No one claimed him so I knew that he was mine. And I wasn't…alone."

He sighs and looks up at me, his eyes begging me to understand. "But then he died. He always slept inside with me, but one night he got out….and a wolf got to him. His howling woke me up. I was too late."

That look returned to his eyes, the one from the day I first saw him. Grief.

"Are you saying that Emmett was who your mother saw?" Despite not believing in fate, not believing in his mother's "abilities", I wanted him to say that it was me, and not a dog that she thought would complete his life.

"I think…," he says slowly, as if he's spent an immeasurable amount of time considering this, "that it was both. She knew that losing Emmett would bring you into my life. She always knew."

"Edward," I sigh, and run my fingers through my hair. He stares at me, waiting. I see a bit of hope in his eyes. I want so badly to tell him what he wants to hear. _Your mother was right. The signs must have been everywhere. _But I can't lie. "You know that I don't believe in fate."

He nods. "I know."

I reach out and cup his face in my hand. "But that doesn't mean that I don't believe in you. And me. In us."

He nods, his eyes not meeting mine. I look down to meet his instead.

"I love you, Edward," I say as I seal my words with a kiss.

.~.~.~.

It takes a while for things to go back to normal. Edward seems confused, frustrated, and a bit embarrassed over his confession. I try to make up for the disappointment, and plan a weekend away for the two of us. We drive to Seattle and stay in a nice hotel. We go to a photography exhibit and eat at a fancy restaurant.

The night before we leave we make love on the balcony overlooking the city lights.

"Emmett," he whispers as I hold his back to my chest, slowly moving in and out of him. When I don't answer he repeats, "Emmett."

"Yes," I moan into his neck, both in pleasure and as a reply.

"Promise me," he says firmly, as he leans back tighter against me.

"Promise what, Edward?" I ask as I reach down to take him in my hand, my movements matching the thrusts of my hips, now faster, deeper.

"Promise me – " he moans, and gasps for air. "That we'll never be apart. That I will always have you."

"Edward," I pant out his name, on the verge of losing control, wondering how he could ever think that I would leave him. "I promise," I whisper, lightheaded, my heart racing. "I will _never_ leave you."

He erupts immediately, fiercely, as if that's all that he needed to hear, his cock twitching and his body shaking. I follow in seconds, moaning his name into his back, pulling him as close as I can, and I know that I will never, ever want anyone else.

.~.~.~.

Time passes, and Edward changes. It's so subtle that I don't notice it at first. For a while I think I see what I want to see: that Edward is happy with me, with my reassurance that I won't leave him. That he is my future.

But after a while, there are things that I can't ignore. The way that his eyes roam everywhere, the way that he mumbles to himself. The bit of madness that has crept into his eyes as he searches…searches…for what, I have no idea.

He takes his camera with him everywhere and takes pictures of unusual things. An electric pole, a gas station, clocks, calendars, and the sky. All odd things that never seemed to catch his interest before. I see him examining the pictures for hours, as if there's something hidden that he just can't see.

I ask him, over and over again…_what are you looking for_?

He shrugs me off, telling me that I wouldn't understand.

One day I'm home from work early and the house is quiet. I find Edward in his office, standing in front of his desk, his back to me. His desk is covered in photos, some inscribed with circles of red. There is a notebook that is almost full, falling apart. "Signs," he mutters to himself. "Which are the signs?"

I freeze, and that's when it hits me, when I know. Edward is afraid of dying. Again, it makes perfect sense; the obvious is right there in front of me. He thinks he will die young like his father, or tragically, like his mother. Damn it, even his dog was taken from him in a terrible way. This whole time he has been searching for signs, for clues about his _fate_.

I am breathing heavily but Edward doesn't notice. He is too far gone in the mystery. "Edward," I finally whisper, and he whips around, his eyes wild, and I think he is just as scared as I am.

I open my mouth and I want so badly to say something that will take the fear out of his eyes. Everything in me wants to take his hand and tell him that I understand, that I won't let him die.

But I love Edward. More than anything or anyone ever, I love him. And I want him, always. I can't play into these ideas that will only drive him crazy. So I have to tell him the truth.

I walk over to him, half behind him, and lean over to point to a picture of a gas station, its windows filled with neon signs. "This," I say softly as I bring my other arm around him, pulling him closer, "doesn't mean anything. There's nothing here to find."

He's shaking, and I wonder if he's eaten at all today.

"This," I point to his notebook, where his usually perfect letters are an unreadable scrawl, "is not the answer."

His eyes drop further and he leans into me, exhausted. I wrap my other arm around him and pull him close, placing soft kisses on his neck. "And this," I take a deep breathe, filling my lungs with his scent, "is real."

He nods quietly and I lead him from the room, hoping that he's leaving it all behind as well.

I would like to think that he believes me, but I can tell that he doesn't. I repeat myself many times, in every way I can that I think he might understand. I tell him that sometimes the universe is just a fucked-up place and sometimes people turn nothing into something. I tell him that there are no _signs_, that our destiny is not predetermined. The most difficult part is when I tell him that if his mother were really psychic, she wouldn't have left the house that day. She never would have gotten into her car. I tell him all of this but I know that he doesn't believe me.

He nods and smiles warily but his eyes give him away. Behind every look I see the fear. I stop fooling myself into thinking that everything is okay because it obviously isn't. Edward tosses and turns in his sleep every night, his hand always fiercely gripping my shirt or my hand. As if he needs me to protect him, even in his dreams.

One morning my alarm goes off, and I reach over to silence it. Edward stirs as well, and I roll over slowly so I don't wake him. His fingers tense around my hand, telling me that he's awake.

"Shhh. Go back to sleep."

He doesn't say anything, just looks up at me sleepily, and then raises his lips to meet mine. I lean over and deepen the kiss, my tongue greedy despite not wanting to wake him. His fingers tangle in my hair, and he sits up, then moves to push me back into the bed. He straddles me, now wide awake.

We're already naked. It was warm the night before and we both slept in the nude. He grinds his ass into my stomach and I don't need to look to know that his cock is standing straight up, begging for attention.

Edward moans and I grip his ass, spreading his cheeks, and rub hard my own hard cock up and down between them. He breaks the kiss, and I frown, until I see that he's leaning over to the nightstand to grab our lube and a condom. My head says that I should be getting ready for work; my cock twitches, distracted, and so ready for him.

Edward reaches down to takes my hand in his, gently kissing two of my fingers before popping the lid off the bottle and spreading lube over them. I move them in him, slowly at first, and faster as his moans become louder. I keep going until I'm sure that he's relaxed enough, and then I slide the condom on and slowly push into him.

"Emmett," he sighs as he looks down at me, his knees pushing him up and down over my cock. The sight of him like this…first thing in the morning, scruff on his face, hair a mess, and the way that he looks down at me…it's too much for me to handle. I want more, more of him. I'm not sure I will ever have enough.

"Faster," I beg.

"Slower," he says.

He's in control here, setting a languid pace, and for a moment I wonder if he's trying to kill me with this need, this torture. Every pass takes him over every inch of my cock, from base to tip, and I want so badly to grip his hips and thrust into him. He stares down into my eyes and licks his lips, determined, it seems, to remain in control.

His hands run up and down over my chest, his soft fingertips brushing against my nipples and down my sides. Every movement he makes pushes me closer to my climax. Every breath he takes makes me lose my own.

"Edward, please."

He doesn't answer with words but he picks up his pace and I moan out loud in pleasure. His breaths are faster and, for a moment, I wonder if he is going to pass out. His hips stop moving and he falls forward, his hands on either side of me, somehow still holding him up.

I ask if he is okay and he simply nods, his arms shaking. I gently pull him down against me, and he lets me, finally surrendering. My hips move quickly, picking up where he left off, chasing our deliverance from this torture.

Faster. I move faster and faster, his hands in my hair, his hot breath on my neck.

Finally, I feel his cock twitch, and I hear his cry, and I know that he's coming between us.

"Edward," I whisper, the softness of my voice a sharp contrast to the wild thrusts of my hips, the noise of the mattress springs, the hold Edward has on my hair. I come hard, and the release is immense. I feel like I've been chasing it for hours.

Edward remains collapsed in my arms, and I hold onto him for longer than I should.

"I've got to go," I whisper into his ear, and he shakes his head. "I have to work. And so do you. Don't you have the family reunion to shoot today?"

"Yes," he says reluctantly, and glances at the clock, then looks at me hopefully. "Call in sick. Come and work with me today."

I look at him, and feel his hand grasp mine. He looks so lost, scared. I know there are reasons he wants me to stay, reasons he won't say out loud.

"I could use the help," he says meekly, in one last attempt to change my mind.

I don't want to leave, but I should, for several reasons. Because I hate lying about being sick. Because I don't believe that something bad will happen to Edward. Because I don't want to feed his fears that something will. I have so many reasons not to stay, and only one reason not to go: Edward. Love and Reason are at war and, as he sighs in defeat against my chest, Love wins.

.~.~.~.

A week later he tries again, with more excuses as to why I shouldn't go. I think it creeps him out that I'm going to work in a graveyard, surrounded by death. Maybe he thinks it's another sign. I give in. Again. I stay home with him and he works on his portfolio while I manage the business expenses. It's nice to be home with him, and he seems more relaxed than he has in days.

But the next time, Reason wins. I need to go to work. I have a job to do, with families waiting for the final words to mark the end of their loved one's lives.

When I come home Edward races to the door, still in his pajamas. Obviously, Reason has lost here. I don't ask if he worked at all today; I know that he hasn't. He collides into me and his lips frantically seek out mine. I kiss him back and, in that moment, wrapped in Edward's desperation and his relief, I wonder why I even left.

"It's okay," I murmur against his lips. "You're okay."

His hands pull at my shirt and struggle with my jeans. "I need you."

I help him with my clothes, and then with his, and make love to him on the living room floor. I tell him that it's okay, and that I love him. I repeat the words over and over again, trying to convince him of their truth, and hope that it's enough.

.~.~.~.

Our trip to visit my mother arrives, but Edward can't go. He's booked a last-minute job, and the money is too good to pass up. I hate that he's not meeting my mother, but with Edward, I'm in it for life. There will be another time. I just hope that he'll be alright all alone.

The first day is fine. He seems distracted when we speak, but I think he might be okay. The next day he doesn't answer his phone. By the end of the third I change my flight, apologize to my mother, and go home.

I find him sitting on the living room floor, surrounded by our pictures. Every picture that we've ever taken together is spread out around him, and his eyes roam over them all, his mind trying to make the pieces fit.

"Edward," I say gently as I walk up to the circle of photographs. "Look at me."

He looks up and I see trails of dried tears on his face, new ones pooling in his eyes. "I don't see it, Emmett. I just don't see it," he whispers desperately.

I crouch down in front of him, reaching over to cup his face in my hand.

"What don't you see, Edward?"

"The signs, Emmett. The signs that will help me figure out how to stop it."

"Stop what?" I know what his fears are, but I haven't heard him say it. Not out loud. I need to hear it.

"Everyone dies, Emmett. Everyone I love dies. But there are signs, and if I can see them, if I can figure it out, maybe I can stop it."

The truth dawns on me slowly at first, and then suddenly, everything slips into place. Edward isn't afraid of his own death - he's afraid of mine. All the searching, the endless pictures, the sleepless nights - it's because of me. To save _me_.

I can't move, and for once it's Edward who's giving me an odd look. Finally, I can speak.

"Edward," I say firmly. "Nothing will tell you when or how I will die, because no one knows. The universe doesn't know, Edward. It didn't take your parents away from you, it didn't take Emmett away from you, and it won't take me away."

He shakes his head in disbelief, and I know that my words are lost on him. "No, no," he cries, his hand moving to shift through the pictures again. "It's got to be here somewhere. If I figure it out, I can stop it, and you'll never leave me."

I reach out and grab his hand, then bring it my lips. I whisper the words softly, reverently. "I'll never leave you regardless."

He nods and I help him pick up the pictures and put them away, hoping once again that I've gotten through to him.

.~.~.~.

"Not today, Edward."

"It's a big shoot. I can't carry all the equipment down to the beach by myself…" He looks at me, but I don't meet his eyes. If I do, I'll give in. I grab my bag and head for the front door, not even stopping for a kiss good-bye.

"Emmett, stay with me."

I freeze, my hand on the door. He has never before asked me to stay. Never out loud. Not that first day, or the day I moved in, or any other day when I stayed home with him.

"Please, Emmett." His voice is shaking. It's worse today, I can tell. I turn around and head over to him, and see that his eyes are pooling with tears.

He sighs in relief when I reach him, and he takes my hand, squeezing it tight.

I squeeze it back and then let go. "I can't, Edward. Not today," I say as I lean over and kiss him quickly. His eyes are wide and a tear runs down his cheek.

I turn around and leave as fast as I can. If I don't do it now, I'll never make it out the door.

All day my thoughts are on him. I can't even focus on the mundane things I normally do to keep my mind off those who have passed away. All I can think about is Edward and how I can stop his fears. By the end of the day both my body and my mind are exhausted. I climb in my truck to leave and notice that my gas tank is nearly empty. I'm almost at the gas station when I look at the clock. It changes, adding another minute to the time. I know that it's another minute that Edward has spent at home, worrying about me, probably pacing the halls. Just then my phone rings, and Edward is begging me to come home.

Tomorrow. I will get gas tomorrow, I decide. I do another u-turn and head home.

I've barely opened the door when Edward attacks me. He runs his hands frantically over my body, as if to make sure I'm still in one piece. I kiss him, hard, and tell him over and over again that I'm all right.

This time we make it to the bedroom. I want him to be comfortable; I want him to feel safe. I try to take my time, to make him feel less desperate. Finally, when we're both spent, and Edward is calm, hunger pulls us out of the room.

I turn on the stove, and he turns on the local news. That's when we see it. The gas station - the very one I go to - is up in flames. I watch in horror as the anchor reports that an electric pole had fallen over, right onto a truck refilling the tanks. There is nothing left of the building, and the carcasses of a few cars can be seen on the outskirts of the disaster.

My stomach sinks, and I realize that it could have been me. It was almost me.

Edward's jaw drops, but he doesn't say anything. Our eyes are glued to the screen. I think of his pictures, his notes. That photo I saw on his desk of the gas station. The desperation in his voice when he asked me to stay. His phone call. Coincidence? Shaken, I try to make dinner. I try not to dwell on what Edward thinks he saw, and what he thought was going to happen today.

It's impossible though, not to think of the what if. _What if_ I decided to fill up my tank. _What if_ I ignored Edward's call. _What if_ I died today?

I've never been scared of death before, not even after I started my job and had to think about death every day. I'm not even scared of death now, when I so narrowly missed it today. It's what I'll leave behind that scares me. It's the thought of Edward all alone. He wouldn't survive without me. It's not even a question. He needs me.

I try to pretend that I'm okay. I pull out the ingredients for dinner and try to look busy. But I'm not used to keeping things from him. It's obvious I'm not fooling him because he comes over and wraps his arms around my waist and kisses me softly. Calming me. _I love you_ he whispers, and just holds me. I let him. For once it's me who needs him.

I abandon dinner, and pull him back to our room. We spend the night in bed, not saying much, just holding each other close. Tonight it's me who grabs his hand and his shirt. It's me who clings to him as if I won't have him tomorrow. It's me who is scared.

Eventually, Edward falls asleep. I watch him by the light of the moon pouring in the window. His breaths are deep, his body heavy against mine. He rests easy, more at peace than I've seen him in months.

But I can't sleep. Not now, with the images of the night still fresh in my mind. Not now, with so many questions unanswered. Not now. Because for the first time…I'm not sure what to believe.


	15. One Shot Kristen Lynn

**Title:** More Illicit Behavior

**Author:** KristenLynn

**Rating:** M

**Summary:** Another bar, another bathroom, another blistering-hot lemon. And once again, all is not as it seems… Will this sexual rendezvous lead to more? Emmett. AH/OOC, M for lemons/language.

**A/N:** This is a follow-up of sorts to _Illicit Behavior_, although in spirit only—there is no need to read the original for this one to make sense, nor will any of the characters from the original be making an appearance here. I was just looking to recapture my missing mojo one afternoon and decided to write a smut-shot with a character that I haven't spent much time with previously; hence, Emmett got to have a sexy romp! I hope that I have recaptured both the intrigue and the volatile sexuality of the original.

Thanks to my betas, **moonlightdreamer333** and **Viola Cornuta**, and my pre-reader, **Agent M**, for providing a male perspective, 'correcting' my girly lingo, and making this Emmett talk/sound like a _real_ man. Thanks also to AccioBourbon, HMonster4 and TheHeartOfLife for hosting the 30 Days of Emmett compilation and allowing me to participate.

**Disclaimer:** Stephenie owns 'em; I'm just allowing them to misbehave…

**Emmett**

I stood just inside the door, the sights and sounds of the once-familiar scene assaulting each and every one of my senses. Alcohol and conversation flowed freely around me. Bodies were packed together on the dance floor, undulating against one another in sensual waves that left little to the imagination. The smell of sweat and sex and… _sin _permeated the room.

It had been a long time since I'd last been to this particular club. Way too fucking long. Six months, to be exact.

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath. I'd missed this, more than I'd realized. The atmosphere, the anonymity, the target-rich environment… My lips twisted into a self-assured sneer, and anticipation began building in my gut, a fucking itch that _needed_ to be scratched. Exhaling slowly, I forced away the affable veneer I presented to the world every day and embraced my darker nature, allowing the predator within to rise to the surface. I'd need him tonight.

Yes. I was back for a reason.

Opening my eyes, I sauntered confidently across the room, knowing that eyes were drawn to me as I moved. My steps were smooth and graceful, slow and controlled, my feet perfectly placed to draw the most attention. But it was all an act—_bait_—my calm, restrained movements an absolute juxtaposition to the feral fucking need that pulsed within me.

I finally reached the opposite side of the room and sidled my way up to the bar and signaled for the bartender. When I captured his attention, Mike grinned in welcome.

"Dude! I haven't seen you in ages," he greeted.

"I know, right?" I replied with a wry smile.

In the past, I'd been the most regular of regulars in this den of iniquity. I'd been here four or five nights a week, always looking to hook up. What can I say? I'm a guy, and I like to fuck. A lot.

Without even needing to ask, a drink appeared in front of me. My usual: a Jack and Coke.

"Thanks, Mike."

I raised the glass in a silent toast, then took a sip. It was strong—just the way I liked. I nodded appreciatively at Mike. His smile widened.

"Where've you been? You like disappeared, man. What'd you do? Go and get yourself a girlfriend?" Mike laughed at the absurdity of his own question.

I just shrugged. I _had_ 'gone and gotten myself a girlfriend'.

"Whoa! No shit! Really? Emmett 'The Master' McCarty, a taken man? Ha! But I guess it's over now, if you're back here, huh?"

I shrugged again, and Mike's eyes widened.

"Dude… If you still have the girlfriend, what the fuck are you doing here?"

"Domesticity doesn't really suit me. I need a little taste of the old life; I've got a fucking itch that needs to be scratched. Know what I mean?"

I waggled my eyebrows suggestively, and Mike shook his head.

"What about your girl?"

"What she doesn't know won't hurt her, right?" I winked.

Mike aped a horrified look, and I laughed lightly.

"What is it with you guys? What's the draw of a different girl each night?"

"Exactly that, Mike, exactly that. It's like Baskin-fucking-Robbins. Thirty-one flavors. A different girl for each night of the month. " I glanced up to the mirror behind the bar in order to eye the women on the dance floor surreptitiously. "And you know me… I love to sample as many flavors as possible."

Mike snorted at my reply, but I ceased paying attention to him when my eyes landed on the most stunning woman I'd ever seen. She'd just stepped through the door and was strolling towards the bar. Long blonde hair was draped over one shoulder and brushed against her tits, which were practically falling out of the low-cut top of her green dress. And holy shit, what a dress! It was short—really fucking short—and it hugged every one of her luscious curves like a second skin. As she moved, her chest bounced lightly and her hips swayed provocatively. When she walked past me, I couldn't help but turn to watch her walk away, and damn… I swear I saw no lines from _any_ type of undergarment. My eyes were glued to her ass, watching the way it wiggled as she walked. I licked my lips in anticipation.

_Mmm… Fresh meat._

Mike must have seen my involuntary response because he chuckled.

"Bon appetit!"

His exclamation drew my attention, and once again, I smiled wryly. I'd been here often enough that he knew the signs.

_I'd found my prey._

"Yeah… that's a meal I'm really going to enjoy digging into," I replied.

He rolled his eyes and chuckled at the obvious innuendo, then turned away to help the next person. My eyes drifted back to the blonde with the smoking-hot body. She was still standing, and I couldn't help but stare at the lush curves and miles of smooth skin that were displayed by the barely-there dress. My cock throbbed in anticipation; I couldn't wait to find out if she really _was_ going commando.

As if feeling my stare, she turned to look at me, eyebrows raised in question. I twisted my lips into my signature 'come to papa' smile. But instead of answering my obvious summons the way that most women did—i.e., _immediately_—her haughty gaze dropped to peruse my physique. I worked out five days a week, so I knew I looked good, but for some reason, her eyebrow-arched scrutiny left me feeling as if I were lacking. It was a completely un-fucking-familiar feeling. _Had I lost my touch?_ My smile morphed into a frown, and I stood up a little straighter, rising to my full six-foot four-inch height. Then I took a breath in order to puff out my chest just a bit.

I noticed her eyes pause when they landed upon my crotch; I was packing a pretty impressive package, and with her attention, little Emmett was definitely interested in poking his head out to play. Although she tried to hide it, her eyes widened just a bit and her chest heaved with a hefty sigh. I relaxed in response to her reaction, my confidence returning. Like any successful predator, I knew the signs—the longing sigh and the flush that appeared on her exposed chest told me it was only a matter of time before she gave in. Her eyes resumed the upward path to my face, and I grinned wolfishly in anticipation of the moment when our gazes would clash and negotiations for the evening would begin. It always worked the same way—a smile or wink, a bit of long-distance flirting, and the eventual trek to the dance floor where the mating ritual would begin.

But when her eyes finally met mine, there was no welcoming smile. Just a haughty, condescending glare. With a flick of her hair—throwing it back over her shoulder—she turned away, effectively dismissing me.

I didn't like it. Not one fucking bit.

I stared at the woman, who was now giving her drink order to Mike, and I didn't miss the incredulous look on his face. It made me scowl… not only had she dismissed me, there had been a witness to the event. I knew Mike would never let me live this one down.

I wasn't known as 'The Master' without reason. No woman _ever_ turned down Emmett fucking McCarty. The Ice Princess sure as hell wouldn't be the first. I couldn't allow it. Anticipation raced through me like a shot of adrenaline, and I straightened my spine in preparation for battle. My eyes narrowed in determination.

_Game on._

While I sipped my drink, I watched her. Surreptitiously, of course; I couldn't have her catch me staring. I'm fucking smoother than that.

She was here alone, like me. Sipping on her drink, she was perusing the room just like I had been earlier, using the mirror behind the bar to scope out the scene. She obviously hadn't found anything she liked, because she gave every man who approached the same condescending glare she had directed at me earlier. One disdainful quirk of her brow was enough to send most of them scuttling away. _Most_ being the key word; there was one guy who wouldn't take no for an answer, a smarmy-looking fucker with slicked-back hair and a too-smooth smile. His suit spoke volumes, a custom-tailored number that was meant to impress. Only in her case, it hadn't worked; the irritated grimace on her face indicated that she was no more impressed by him than I was. Her voice didn't carry, but I could see the angry flush on her cheeks when she turned to address him, obviously annoyed by his continued attention. He clearly didn't take 'no' for an answer, and when he reached out to brush his fingers across her cheek in an intimate fashion, I saw her flinch in response.

Anger seethed within me at the gesture and her response to it. There was one goddamn rule at this club: every interaction was absolutely consensual—no meant no, no questions asked. Setting my glass on the counter, I pushed away from the bar.

Just in time.

By the time I reached her side, she'd obviously reached her limit with Mr. Hot Shit, whose hand had just settled—unasked for—on her hip. Her eyes flashed with indignation and… was that _fear_? This wasn't good.

Not good at all.

"Hey, baby," I purred, as I stepped up behind her and slid my arm around her waist, effectively displacing the hand of the unwanted admirer. I allowed my lips to brush the skin beneath her ear, noting the way her entire fucking body jumped to attention at that tiny skin-on-skin contact. Bending down as I was, I had a clear shot of her fabulous tits; that creamy flesh swelled above the top of her dress, and her hardened nipples were easily visible beneath the tight-fitting fabric. A sense of triumph coursed through me, settling in my groin. My cock twitched to attention.

Whirling around to face me, her discomfort morphed into relief. Immediately grasping the game I was playing at, she wrapped her arms around my neck and returned my sensual greeting.

"Hey, yourself…"

The low, sultry tone of her voice danced a sexy melody across my skin, causing me to shudder slightly in response. When she tilted her head up to brush her lips against my own, my hand dipped to clutch the swell of her backside. Opening her mouth slightly, she touched my lip with her tongue. I groaned and felt her smile in response to the effect she had on me. Even though I had just rescued her, I wasn't in control. I wasn't sure if I liked that feeling or not.

Breaking the kiss, I raised my head and looked down upon her upturned face. This close, she was even more stunning. Soft, lightly flushed skin. Flawless features. Green eyes that precisely matched the shade of her dress. The body pressed against mine was soft in all the right places, a perfect foil for my hardness. Unable to resist, I yanked her lower body into mine and thrust my pelvis against her, a purposeful demonstration of just how much we differed. Her eyes widened, and she sucked in a startled gasp when my semi-hard cock pressed into her soft stomach. I smirked knowingly in response, my eyelids narrowing into sexy slits.

Without taking my eyes from her face, I addressed the man who had dared to touch what was clearly mine.

"Sorry, man. This lady's taken."

He didn't move, and from the corner of my eye, I registered his sputtering indignation. Finally allowing myself to look away from the woman who was now plastered against me, my eyes slid to the furious man to my left. This, too, was a man who was unused to being turned down. But tonight, there was no fucking way he would win.

"There are rules here, don't you know?" I asked pointedly. There was one rule. And he had broken it. Shooting him with a steely glare, I stated, "No means no."

I nodded to Mike, and within a few seconds, two bouncers appeared at the man's side. Each took an arm and escorted him from the premises. Once he was gone, the woman in my arms finally relaxed, slumping against me in relief. Unable to resist, I lightly stroked her hair and the exposed skin of her back.

"Thanks," she finally whispered.

"Not a problem. I'm just sorry that you had to deal with that." Reaching down to tip her chin up, I met her wary gaze. "I promise… We're not all like that."

My quietly spoken words seemed to have a comforting effect; the wariness left her face, awareness taking its place as she relaxed further. That look went straight to my cock, anticipation tickling my gut. Taking a step back, I tugged her hand and led her to the dance floor. When we reached the center of the crowd, I pulled her flush against me. In her stilettos, she was only a few inches shorter than me, and my nose brushed her temple. I inhaled, breathing her in, learning her scent. The music was edgy and rough; it demanded action. Gripping her hips roughly, I shoved one of my thick, muscled thighs between her legs and pushed my pelvis purposely into hers. We slow danced like this for a few minutes, her body sliding sinuously and rhythmically against mine while I ground my now-aching erection against her. When the music changed to something slower and smoother, less driving, I slid my arms up her back and leaned in to talk to her.

"So…" I began. "I haven't seen you here before."

"It's my first time," she responded, somewhat nervously.

"Well, don't worry. I don't bite," I assured. Then I leaned in to whisper in her ear. "Unless you want me too, of course."

I felt her chuckle, felt her relax against me.

"I think we got off to a bad start… I'm M."

Her feet slowed, and she looked down, as if she was hesitant to give me her name. Then she sighed.

"Jade," she stated quickly before leaning back to eye me with furrowed brow. "M? Is that short for something?"

"Mac."

"Mac?"

I just nodded. It was my nickname from childhood. Short for McCarty.

"It suits you," she stated, lifting her lips to my ear. "_Mac_…" she stated again, slowly and surely, her husky voice drawing that one syllable out deliciously.

I fucking loved the way my name sounded on her tongue. And the way her tongue was now caressing my ear. I groaned, and she chuckled throatily before thrusting her hips into mine.

Now, I was finally back on familiar ground, playing the mating game. We danced for a while, bodies swaying together in perfect fucking synchronization, every move a deliberate step in the push and pull of foreplay. She writhed against me sensually, her thighs and hips bumping against mine rhythmically, the hardened tips of her nipples brushing my chest suggestively. Slipping my hands around her waist, my fingers pressed slightly, pulling her even closer, grinding slowly. It was bittersweet torture, being this close—feeling all of her pressed against me—yet way too fucking far away from her. Tipping my chin down, I mirrored her actions from earlier, allowing my tongue to brush the shell of her ear. Her body shuddered in unrestrained response against mine, her fingers tightening almost painfully against my waist.

"You wanna go somewhere a bit more… private?" I asked.

"_Yes_…"

Pushing through the crush of bodies, we retraced our earlier footsteps. Mike caught my eye as I purposely strode towards the bar and flashed me the signal. I gave the briefest nod of acknowledgement, but my focus never wavered from the woman I was escorting. My fingers burned from contact with the exposed skin of her lower back, heated awareness coursing through my blood and pooling in my groin.

Her feet faltered when we passed the bar, and I guided her to the back hallway rather than toward the exit. Allowing my fingers to dip beneath the low-cut back of her dress, I caressed the swell of one cheek.

"Do you trust me?"

I experienced a moment of panic when she tensed and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. Leaning down to brush my lips against the skin at the juncture of her neck and collarbone, I whispered, "This is your call, baby… I won't do anything you don't want me to do."

My lips closed around that tender flesh, and her frantic pulse fluttered beneath my lips. She wanted this, really fucking badly. I could tell. But she was nervous. I sucked gently on that tell-tale pulse-point, and her body sagged backward into mine in eager acquiescence. Triumph surged through me at her slight nod. Straightening, I urged her forward once more. This time, there was no hesitation.

We bypassed the public restrooms and came to a door that was protected with a coded lock. Punching in the sequence Mike had flashed me, I ushered her in, flipping the lights and turning the dead-bolt behind me. She looked around in surprise at the small lounge we had entered.

The room was tastefully decorated, obviously a sensual haven. The lighting was dim. On one side, a large marble vanity took up the entire wall; a basket with condoms and single-use packets of lube sat in the corner. A small, red velvet settee resided against the opposite wall. A swinging door leading to the john was tucked into the wall opposite the exit. But the defining feature of the room was that every wall was comprised of floor-to-ceiling mirrors. Images of my body pressed against her back, my lips caressing the nape of her neck, and my hands splayed against her ribcage were reflected back to me from every angle.

"What is this?" she asked in a whisper.

Lifting my head to meet her questioning eyes in the mirror above the vanity, I watched as her hands slid up to cover my own. My breath caught when she urged my fingers upwards in order to cup her breasts. I was unable to tear my eyes from the image of her hands covering mine as I dipped a finger into her dress and rubbed one of her hardened nipples. Her eyes drifted shut and a soft moan escaped her lips.

"Private lounge," I answered in a strangled whisper as she arched against me, pushing her breasts more firmly against my hands and wiggling her ass against my groin.

"Mmmm…" she hummed.

I didn't know if her reply was in response to my words or to my fingers, which had just yanked her dress down, releasing her tits. They were round and full, and I palmed them eagerly as soon as they spilled out into my waiting hands, their pale cream a sharp contrast to my tan. Beautiful dusky-tipped nipples—already hardened in anticipation—pouted at me invitingly. Watching my reflection intently, I reached up to tease the pebbled tips, eliciting another breathy moan.

"Fuck, baby. You're beautiful," I murmured encouragingly against her neck.

At my compliment, her hands traced up my arms and laced around the back of my neck. The motion pushed her chest out further and caused her ass to press even more firmly against my rock-hard cock. I grunted slightly at the intimate contact, and she swiveled her hips in response. When my exhalation turned into a tortured groan, she repeated the motion.

My eyes snapped back to her face. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips, a flash of pink against bright red, as she swiveled again, purposefully pausing right as her ass grazed the bulge in my pants. Even though her eyes were closed, a knowing smile played at her lips as I bucked against her. My eyes narrowed. She was enjoying this, playing with me. But this was my game, and it was about fucking time to remind her of that fact.

On the next swivel of her hips, I pinched the pert, pink flesh between my fingertips, causing her to cry out slightly. Her eyes snapped open, and this time, _my_ knowing smile met _her_ gaze. Her eyes quickly dropped to look at my fingers. After a particularly satisfying sigh, I released her sensitive nipple and allowed one hand to slide down her ribcage, to her waist, and lower. Her eyes followed the downward descent of my hand over her hip. I didn't stop, sliding further down to slip my fingers beneath the hem of her dress and caress the silky skin of her thigh. She gasped at the touch, flinging her head back against my shoulder and digging her nails into the back of my neck.

Curling my fingers around the bottom of her dress, I slowly slid it up, and tremors vibrated through her entire body. Sucking in little panting breaths, she fucking trembled against me in eager anticipation of what would come next. Suddenly, I wanted to see her jump.

Correction: _I wanted to make her jump._

I stretched my index finger so that it was brushing her inner thigh on the ascent, so that it would touch… _her_ when I pulled the skirt high enough.

Her breathing stopped completely as my finger got closer and closer to its destination.

And when the tip of that finger finally grazed slick, naked, smooth skin…

She jerked. Then moaned. It was the most erotic fucking sound I had ever heard, a desperate keening that penetrated every inch of my being, settling in my stomach and reaching down to yank at my cock.

I pulled her skirt slowly to her waist, watching in the mirror as she was revealed to me. She was waxed, bare except for a small landing strip of neatly trimmed golden-colored curls. Sliding my other hand down, I anchored her skirt at her waist as I reached back down between her legs. Pressing more firmly this time, I slid a finger between her lips, teasing her. Capturing some of her moisture on my fingertips, I traced lazy circles against her swollen skin. Her breathy moans filled the air and resonated deep within me.

With each stroke of my fingers, her pants and moans grew louder. Her hips began to move of their own accord, and her hands clamped tightly against my neck in a losing battle to anchor herself in an upright position. I slipped a finger inside of her, pumping roughly, and her entire body jerked again, a whispered curse escaping her lips.

"_Fuck._"

It was all the encouragement I needed. I turned my head, my lips grazing her ear.

"Don't worry, baby. I _am_ gonna fuck you. Really good. Just the way you want."

"Oh, fuck. _Yes_…" she groaned as she thrust her hips against my hand, forcing my finger even deeper into her hot, wet pussy.

"But not yet…"

She whimpered when I removed my finger, her eyes snapping up to lock on my gaze in the mirror. Moving slowly, purposefully, I trailed my hand up her waist to the hem of the dress. Tugging gently, I pulled it up and over her head—displacing her hands from the back of my neck in the process—then tossed it unceremoniously to the floor. Settling my hands at her waist, I urged her forward to the vanity. When her stomach was pressed flush against the cold granite surface, her hands dropped to brace herself, and her head tipped forward.

"No!" I stated sharply, and her head snapped back up. "I want you to watch."

Nostrils flaring and eyes burning, she sucked her lower lip between her teeth, but she met my eyes in the mirror. I nodded my approval.

"Good. Now, spread your legs."

Her eyes dilated further, and she took a hastily indrawn breath, but she did as I commanded. Placing a hand in the center of her back, between her shoulders, I pushed slightly.

"Bend over, just a little, rest on your elbows. Good," I praised again when she followed my command. But then her head tipped downward again. "Don't take your eyes off the fucking mirror!" I grated out.

Her eyes once again rose to meet mine, and a tiny whimper escaped her lips as my hand slid slowly down her spine and over the smooth skin of her backside to the curve where her ass met her hamstring. Twisting my hand around, I slipped my fingers between her legs and grazed that hot, slick skin once again. She moaned.

"Watch what I'm doing to you."

She looked confused for a moment until I took a step back and dropped to my knees behind her. Using both hands, I parted her legs, encouraging her feet to spread even further apart, then tugged slightly at the front of her thighs in order to get her to tilt her hips. Using my thumbs, I spread her lips, then leaned up and touched my tongue to her wet skin. She jerked and moaned again, a deep, guttural sound that rumbled throughout her entire body. I smiled wickedly.

I already had her on the edge, and I was only getting started.

Tilting my head back, I ran my tongue against her slit, dipping the tip into her pussy to taste her sweet juices on each down stroke. Her legs began to tremble in earnest beneath my hands, her body shaking with restraint. Yanking her hips backwards, I sank down on the floor and tilted my head further in order to wrap my lips around her clit, sucking hard. She rocked into me forcefully with a gasping grunt, cursing in pleasure. Flicking my tongue, I teased her clit until her hands slammed against the counter-top and she cried out.

At the desperate sound, I pushed her hips forward roughly, and she collapsed onto the vanity, her legs unable to hold her upright any longer. Unfolding my body from the floor, I had my pants unbuttoned and at my ankles by the time I was upright on my feet. Taking a step forward, I rubbed my rock-hard erection against her ass and she whimpered in anticipation, her hips wiggling side to side. Grabbing my cock in my hand, I bent my knees slightly and guided myself to her entrance, teasing—sliding between her lips, but not penetrating.

When she huffed in irritation at my obvious delay, I spoke.

"What do you want, baby?"

She grunted. "You know what I want."

"Tell me!" I demanded.

"I want you to fuck me."

"Like this?" I pushed in just a little, then pulled back out, rubbing the wetness around.

"No," she whined.

I repeated the action. On my third partial penetration, she rocked back in an attempt to force me deeper, but I chuckled and pulled back.

"_Please…_" she begged.

"I don't fucking think so," I replied. Reaching up, I wrapped a hand around her long hair. "What did I tell you earlier?" I asked, giving her hair a sharp tug.

Her head tilted up. As soon as her eyes met mine in the mirror, I thrust forward, burying myself in her hot, wet pussy. Her mouth dropped open as I filled her, and we both groaned. I pulled out slowly, and when I thrust forward again, filling her completely, her eyes drifted shut on a shuddering sigh. I tugged her hair again, causing her eyes to snap to mine in irritation and intense arousal.

"What did I tell you earlier?" I asked again, my tone harsher this time. I pulled out, poised right at her entrance.

"To watch…" she groaned.

"That's right," I stated as I slammed into her again. "You're gonna watch me fuck you."

She sucked her lower lip into her mouth again, her small, white teeth scoring the surface.

"And you're gonna fucking love it," I decreed.

"_Yes_…" she practically moaned as I filled her yet again.

I established a quick rhythm, using her hair to help guide her backward movement against my forward thrusts. Our eyes remained locked in the mirror while my body pumped in and out of hers from behind. When her breathing became labored and the familiar tightening sensation began to pool in my lower abdomen and creep down into my balls, I reached around with my free hand and buried it between her legs, my fingers homing to the source of her pleasure. Several strokes of my fingers against her sensitive clit, and she slammed backward into me, screaming my name. Her inner walls clenched around me, and the pressure finally exploded in my abdomen. With a curse, I shot my load deep inside of her.

"Oh, fuck…" she panted as I collapsed onto her back, pushing her chest against the cold stone of the vanity and breaking our eye contact.

I rested my forehead against the smooth skin between her shoulder blades and attempted to catch my breath. Shaken by the intensity of the encounter, I found it nearly fucking impossible to breathe around the knot that had suddenly appeared in my throat. An unfamiliar and uncomfortably tight sensation pooled in my chest, constricting my heart and keeping it from slowing. Raising my hands, my fingers curled around her upper arms, holding her in a gentle, intimate embrace, an action meant to ground me just as much as her. My breath finally escaped in a gasping huff that caused her skin to pucker in awareness and her body to shudder in response. Her chest heaved beneath me; I was not the only one affected by our intense connection. My eyelids fluttered shut, and my lips ghosted reverently across the damp skin of her upper back.

"Oh, God… I fucking love you."

The words escaped in a strangled whisper before I could contain them. As soon as I realized what I'd just said, my heart stuttered to a fucking stop before resuming its frantic pace. We both stiffened in response, and I lifted my upper body from hers, giving her some space even though we were still joined in the most intimate of ways.

Warily raising my eyes to meet hers in the mirror, I was shocked by what I encountered; green eyes flashed wildly at me, ever-changing emotions racing across her face: first shock, then excitement and attraction—acceptance—and victory. But that positive response was quickly replaced by something far more insidious: a deep-seated hurt, and finally, anger. No, it was more than mere anger. The intense fucking _rage_ that emanated from her caused me to suck in a gasping breath and take a staggering step backward, severing the final physical connection we shared.

As soon as I pulled out, she whipped around to nail me with an icy glare.

"Love? You call _this_… love?"

Her mouth and eyes spat wrath in my direction, and she punctuated her words with a choppy gesture that encompassed the both of us. I was stunned into fucking silence, in awe of her—equal parts terrified of her fury and captivated by her incomparable beauty. Reaching down, she snatched her dress from the floor and stepped into it, yanking it up her body. Without straightening it, she stalked across the room. After flipping the lock, she yanked the door open, and without turning around, she addressed me.

"This isn't love, _Mac_." My name was a condescending sneer on her lips. "This is a random hook up in a private room of a sex club. _Just a fuck!_"

She stepped through the door, leaving me standing half-naked and still semi-hard in the center of the room. All I could do was stare at the fucking door as it swung shut behind her. And of course, because it was also mirrored, it was as if I were standing in a tunnel; all I could see was my own image reflected back to me, over and over again, each subsequent image smaller than the first. When I had been standing behind her, looking at _our_ reflection from every angle, it had been highly erotic. But seeing only myself… my blood ran cold, and I began to question everything.

_Why the hell did I come here tonight? Didn't I already have everything I could ever want at home?_

Fuck!

_Had I just fucked everything up?_

That thought spurred me into motion. Reaching down, I yanked my pants up my legs and propelled myself through the door. I practically ran to the bar, but when I emerged in the crowded room, my feet stuttered to a halt and my heart sank to the bottom of my fucking stomach. Looking around, I knew she was gone, and despite the room full of people, I felt completely fucking alone. I stumbled to the bar.

"Dude… what did you do to that girl?" Mike asked in a steely tone as he set a shot of whiskey on the bar in front of me.

"I fucked her."

Mike looked at me, eyebrows raised in disbelief. "Dude, I've seen the way that girls look after you've taken them to the lounge… freshly fucked and satisfied. That girl looked… well, pissed is an understatement. So, I'll ask again. What the fuck did you do to her?"

I lifted my head and scowled at my friend. "I didn't do anything wrong, Mike, I swear. I just fucked her."

His penetrating glare told me that he didn't believe me. I dropped my gaze back to my fingers, which were twirling my shot glass.

"Fuck!" I cursed before lifting the glass to my lips and tipping the alcohol into my mouth. I welcomed the burn as it slid down my throat. Slamming the glass back on the counter, I brought my hands to my head, gripping tightly in frustration and tossing my head back. I could feel Mike's accusing stare, even though my eyes were focused on the ceiling. When I dropped my hands and my head, it was to find Mike's eyes boring into me.

"Fine," I ground out. "You wanna know what pissed her off so badly?"

He nodded, a wary look on his face, almost as if he was afraid to hear what was coming.

"I fucked the shit out of her. Probably the best she'd ever had, because it was by far the best fuck of my life." I paused, hands once again flying to my hair in agitation. I sighed and looked to Mike with haunted eyes. "Then I told her I loved her."

This was obviously not the response Mike was anticipating, because his mouth dropped open and a look of absolute confusion washed across his features.

"But…" he stammered, "You said you have a girlfriend."

I gave a brief nod of acknowledgement.

"Oh, is that the problem? Did you tell her about the girlfriend?"

I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head, gripping the back of my skull tightly with my fingertips. "No," I stated tersely.

"I don't get it then… what exactly is the problem?"

I paused for a moment and huffed in frustration.

"That _was_ my girlfriend."

Tossing a few bills on the counter, I turned to leave before Mike could ask the questions that I couldn't answer.

~/~

An hour later, I stood nervously at Rose's door. I'd been standing here for ten minutes, hand raised, but unable—or maybe unwilling—to knock. I'd fucked up royally tonight, and I didn't know if we would be able to work through this or not. I hoped we would, because contrary to what I had told Mike earlier in the evening, I _had_ settled quite easily into a life of domesticity.

And that had scared the ever-loving shit out of me.

I had changed everything for her, without even realizing. 'The Master' had disappeared, and a kinder, gentler, and more sensitive version of me had materialized his place. I hadn't set foot back into that club—or any other club for that matter—since the day I met Rosalie Hale. She was everything I never knew I wanted or needed. Clichéd, but the fucking truth. After our first date, I had known she was 'The One.' But I had spent the last ten years living it up—fucking whomever, whenever, and wherever I wanted—and suppressing all emotional connections. Suddenly finding myself completely satisfied by one person was a bit unnerving. And when she told me she loved me for the first time a few months back, I kind of lost it.

I knew she wanted to hear me say it back, but I couldn't. Even though I knew she was 'it' for me, I wasn't ready to verbalize those feelings yet. It went against my nature, or at least the nature that I'd embraced for the past ten years. So each and every time we talked or kissed or had sex and I _didn't_ tell her, I watched as a little more of her confidence in me—and in our relationship—died. The sad thing is I wanted to tell her. I wanted to tell her really fucking badly, but it was counterintuitive to everything I had ever thought, felt, or experienced; I was scared shitless by the unfamiliar emotions coursing through my body, because they were feelings over which I had no fucking control.

I had suggested the club tonight, hoping that a familiar setting might help to loosen me up. And it had. Being there—the one place where I had always been able to be myself—had finally given me the courage to tell her how I felt. Unfortunately, it hadn't gone quite as planned. It wasn't even necessary to close my eyes in order to recall with perfect fucking clarity every emotion that swam across her features after those words had crossed my lips; a vision of Rose's indignant fury was burned into my memory.

Taking a deep breath, I finally rapped my knuckles against the door.

The door swung inward almost immediately, as if she had been waiting for me. She had changed out of the slinky dress and was now wearing an old tee-shirt and a pair of my boxer shorts. Her hair was scraped back from her face in a severe ponytail. She had also discarded the green contacts, and I was glad to see that her eyes were once again a pretty blue. However, with a single glance at her red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks, my heart dropped out of my fucking chest.

"Rosie?" I whispered, reaching my hand up in an attempt to cup her cheek. She backed away before I could make contact. But she didn't close the door, instead holding it open and indicating that I come in.

I walked into her living room—a place in which I had become quite comfortable over the past six months—and stood, hands clenched at my sides. I listened for any sound that indicated she would join me, but I was met only with absolute fucking silence. My hands fisted tighter and my eyes squeezed shut as I waited for a sign, any sign, that she would close the distance between us. All I heard was her shakily-indrawn breath from across the room. I didn't know how much time had passed when my shoulders finally slumped forward in defeat.

"Rose, please…"

I didn't really know what the hell I was begging for.

"W-why…" Her voice cracked, drawing the word out into multiple syllables. Pausing, she took a steadying breath. "Why did it have to be like that? I felt so dirty, so used…"

I turned around slowly to face her. She was slumped against the door, her disappointed eyes trained on me.

"You know about my past, baby. And you agreed to go there tonight," I reminded her hesitantly. "Hell, _you_ were the one to suggest that we role-play—that I pretend I didn't know you …"

"Yes, I do know, and yes, I did make the suggestion. And I was prepared for what happened physically, enjoyed it even. It was illicit and erotic, and I have never been that turned on in my life. But it was all a game, an act. A _scene_." She spat the word. "It wasn't real… None of it. The name, the clothes, even the freaking contacts…" She shook her head. "I don't dress like that or do things like that. Ever. That wasn't me."

"Of course it was you. I—"

"Stop!" she interrupted me. "Let me finish!"

I shut my mouth and nodded, bringing my hands together, wringing them nervously.

"That wasn't me, Emmett. It was a fantasy version of me-one I created to please you. And _that_ person was the one to whom you said 'I love you' tonight. Not me. Am I not enough? Will I ever be enough? Me, that is. The _real_ me."

For a moment I didn't answer, wanting to make sure that she really wanted me to talk this time. She was staring desperately at me, all of her fears and vulnerabilities exposed, a tear dripping from her lashes to trail down her cheek. With a groan, I crossed the room purposefully, stopping only when I was directly in front of her. Her head dropped at my approach. Reaching up, I cupped her cheeks in my hands, using my thumb to brush away that single, lonely tear.

"How can you ask that?" I whispered. Forcing her chin up so that she was looking into my eyes, I spoke honestly for the first time. "Rose, you're fucking everything. _The only thing_. The only one who has ever mattered to me in this way… can't you tell?"

Another tear ran down her cheek, then another, as she shook her head in the negative.

"Ah, Rose," I sighed, bringing my lips to her forehead. "It's you. Only you. It has been since the first day I saw you."

Her hands slipped around my waist, and she buried her head in my neck. I felt her take a shuddering sigh. "How many others have you said 'I love you' to back in that room?" she asked in a hushed whisper.

"None."

"None?" she scoffed. "Not one."

"Not one," I confirmed. "In fact, I have never said those words to a woman before in my life." I paused and leaned back, once again tilting her face up in order to look her straight in the eye. "Until tonight. Until you…"

More tears fell from her eyes, but this time they were tempered with a tremulous smile. Lowering my head, I brought my mouth to hers, savoring the feel of her soft, warm lips against my own. No kiss we had previously shared ever felt like this. As I sucked on her lower lip, I inhaled, breathing her into me as well. I was surrounded, saturated by my Rose. It was a heady feeling, one I knew I would never tire of. I pushed my tongue into her mouth, tasting her, and a tiny whimpering moan escaped her chest as her tongue greedily met mine. It was a sound of frustration and redemption, of control and surrender.

Suddenly, her arms were wrapped around my neck and her legs were entwined with mine. Her lips nipped, her tongue plundered, and her body clung. My cock instantly responded, springing to life, and with a groan she writhed against me. I took a step forward, pressing her against the wall, trapping her eagerly. But the feeling within my chest caused me to take a step back, even while every nerve screamed bloody murder in fucking protest. Hearing her frustrated sigh, I cupped her cheeks and lowered my lips to press a chaste kiss to her pouting mouth. Resting my forehead against hers, I felt my heart jump into my throat.

"You were right," I stated, tilting my head slightly to kiss first her cheek, then her nose and her eyes, and finally her forehead.

"About what?" she asked as I pulled her into a comforting embrace.

"It shouldn't have been like that."

I leaned down to capture her lips once again, my heart pounding rapidly in my chest.

"Huh?" she hummed against my mouth.

"It should have been like this…"

While I sucked gently on her lower lip, I pushed my hands into her hair. Holding her face steady, I released her lip and leaned back. Taking a deep breath, I waited for her to open her eyes. When she did, looking at me in confusion, I smiled. Then I stepped around her so that she could see the mirror on the wall. Standing directly behind her, I dropped my hands to her shoulder and leaned in so that my face was pressed against hers.

"I want you to watch," I stated.

At my words, she immediately stiffened. But I held her wary gaze, staring intently at the reflection of her eyes and rubbing comforting circles on her arms until she began to relax.

"Look at yourself, Rose. You're beautiful. _Perfect_. Perfect for me," I whispered fervently. Her eyes widened, and I tilted my head in order to press soft kisses against her temple, eyebrow, cheek. "Just the way you are, no change necessary."

I brushed my lips against the shell of her ear, then moved lower to kiss the tender skin of her neck. When she began to tremble, I raised my head again to meet her eyes in the mirror.

"And I love you."

She sighed, tears once again rolling down her cheeks.

"Hey…" I teased. "No crying. This is a good thing, right?"

She nodded. Her hand snaked up my arm to settle against my neck and I wrapped my arms around her from behind, my hands splayed against her ribcage. I watched as she dropped her hands to cover my own, and my breath caught when she urged my fingers upwards in order to cup her breast. It was like déjà vu, and once again I was unable to tear my eyes from the image of her hands covering mine as I held her once-again unbound breasts. And when her hips wiggled suggestively against mine, I pushed my aching hard-on into her soft backside.

All of our actions were eerily the same as before, yet somehow immensely different and far more meaningful. With a groan, I dropped my hands to the bottom of her shirt and slowly lifted it, pulling it over her head and allowing it to fall to the floor. Rose-tipped nipples once again pouted at me in the mirror, and I couldn't resist the urge to roll them between my fingertips. Her back arched, and her head fell back against my shoulder.

"Beautiful…" I murmured softly against her ear.

I was again struck with a sense of déjà vu, and I realized this was a scene I had no desire to repeat in the same context. Turning my head, I suckled gently at her neck, earning another moan.

"Rose?"

"Hmmmm…"

"As arousing as this was… _is_… I want—no, _need_—it to be different this time."

Her eyes fluttered open, a look of confusion at first clouding their bottomless blue depths. But when she was finally able to focus on the reflection in the mirror, which was almost identical to earlier, she stiffened momentarily and dropped her eyes. But almost immediately, she snapped them back up, meeting my gaze in the mirror, a determined look on her face.

"It is," she assured. "This is nothing like before."

It wasn't. This time, we didn't fuck. This time, we made love.

Standing in front of her entryway mirror, we watched the way our bodies came together, an equal exchange of emotion and feeling this time, a balanced give and take, invitation rather than command. I filled her, and she welcomed me back. With each forward thrust of my hips, hers pushed backward with equal intensity and desire. With each touch of my fingers against her heated flesh, she found some way to touch me as well. And when she finally cried out my name in sweet release, my words of love followed.

Sliding to the floor, we remained wrapped in each other's arms—and love—as we came down from our intense high. Eventually, she slumped against me, both physically and emotionally spent. Standing carefully, I picked her up and carried her to bed, tucking her in. When I made to leave, her sleepy, protesting voice stopped me.

"Stay…"

So I did.

I slid beneath the covers, cuddling her to me, curling myself around her, unable to get close enough, physically. Emotionally, I was sated, closer to her than I had ever been to anyone. I reveled in the feeling that now bounced joyously in my chest as my arms tightened around her. Filled with love, I finally realized that she fulfilled me.

With a smile, I buried my face in her neck, inhaling deeply, drinking in her scent. I felt her happy sigh. This time, when she spoke those three little words, I didn't hesitate to repeat them to her. In fact, I couldn't say them quickly enough.

From here on out, she was the only itch I would ever need to scratch. She was the only thing I would ever anticipate. She was my complete fucking satisfaction, and I would never need anything other than her. No clubs, and definitely no more sex in public places.

'The Master' would never need to make another appearance.

Unless, of course, she requested him_._

A soft chuckle escaped my lips.

After our illicit behavior earlier tonight—and her obvious enjoyment of it—there was always hope.


	16. A Series of Drabbles from Duskwatcher

**Title:****Reflections on Emmett**

Author: duskwatcher2153

Genre: Canon

Rating: T

A canon series of drabbles from others' POV as to the entity known as Emmett McCarty Cullen.

A/N: My thanks to Kaydee1005 and KCerena for their quick beta work. Any mistakes you find were made after they'd had a chance to review.

**Mrs. Mallory**

Well, I don't know how many times that boy has been held back, but no one can convince me he's sixteen years old. He's built like an NFL player, for goodness' sake. I mean, I can appreciate Dr. Cullen's impulse towards charity, but my God, the boy's huge. Who knows what circumstances he comes from? Are the girls at Forks High School even safe? He could be one of those scumbags who slip roofies into drinks of the unsuspecting.

Of course, if he wanted to be a pool boy, I might be able to, ahem, find a position for him.

**Jasper**

The thing with Emmett is he loves his immortal life, he loves Rosalie and his family, he's just so happy and content with what he's been dealt that feeling his emotional timbre is like sitting in sunshine. It's clear and uncomplicated, not because he's simple but because that's the way he chooses to see it. He sucks people into it; unconsciously others start to smile with him, their outlook brightens, not realizing he's the cause. He doesn't even realize the effect he has on people; he expects happiness, damn if he doesn't find it.

The man is a walking good mood.

**Esme**

It was the tenderness that surprised me the most.

Emmett woke up from the change laughing. No hesitation, no looking back, he took to his new life like a duck to water. Full of humor and enthusiasm, he brought an energy to the house that I hadn't even known was lacking until he came. One doesn't normally associate that kind of extroversion with sensitivity, but there it was.

Emmett had been with us for about six weeks when Rose had an episode. It was the unspeakable trauma of how she passed that catches up with her every so often. She'll spend hours in the tub, scrubbing until she's raw, followed by days of catatonia in a corner. For all the strength that Rose projects, there are times when she is as fragile as a crystal vase with a long hairline crack.

He stayed outside that bathroom door, motionless, while she muttered and sobbed and scrubbed for hours. It was like he was drinking up her pain, taking it into himself, becoming the strength she had lost. Finally, it got quiet. I don't recall that she ever made a noise, but somehow he knew when she was ready to come out, and then he pulled her from the chilled bath water and dried her off while she stood silently like a lost child. He wrapped a towel around her, combed out her hair, put her in a flannel gown and tucked her into bed like she was a child.

He waited for her the next five days, never straying from the house, though he needed to hunt badly. I offered to sit with her while he was gone, but he wouldn't have it.

It had been hard for her to accept the new life that Carlisle had given her, and though we all gave her space, the unspoken intention that she might become a mate for Edward hung over the two of them like an unwanted audience. Perhaps if circumstances had been different, they might have become friends or more, but I think in the end, the right decision was for her to make her_ own _decision. She'd had so much choice taken away from her; it was something she needed to claim, to take back for herself, to regain her own life. I knew what it was to have your destiny removed from your own hands. If she took a mate, a lover, it would be her choice and she would say when and who and how.

Her first year with us, she'd been eaten up with anger and vengeance. Her bitterness had seeped into our family like a poison until I'd been frightened for all of us. Carlisle spent weeks agonizing over how to help her begin to her new life instead of re-living her past again and again. In the end, he had to allow her plans of retaliation, hoping she could purge the violence and hate that had ended her life and move on to better times.

But of course, she couldn't. Violence and hate never beget good. She came home with blood on her wedding dress, but her nightmare was far from over. Things began to set her off−small ordinary things such as the sight of a child or when we'd gone hunting. I remember her standing over a doe, its neck twisted at an odd angle, kicking helplessly as the life faded from its eyes, something in its fragile vulnerability haunting her. She stood looking at the potential meal she had chased down and screamed so loud it echoed through the forest. She ran from us then; for days she wandered alone in the forest. She finally came home early one oneonemorning, and never spoke of the incident. Carlisle gently prodded her to talk of her past and the trauma that she had suffered but she refused to speak of it.

We feared most for her when we'd been hunting bear in Ontario. We found her over the cooling carcass of a mother bear, covered in blood from head to toe, pulling at the guts of the bear and weeping while its cub snuffled and whimpered nearby. The nightmarish vision of her kneeling on the ground, bright red and crying would stay with me for a long time. We led her home, washed her off and sat her down in a chair where she stayed for four days.

Then she shook it off and became again her smart, opinionated self until the next time the darkness would claim her.

I have to admit I was skeptical when she brought Emmett home to be changed. I was glad to see her take an interest in a man, but I couldn't figure out what an urbane, sophisticated, educated woman like her wanted with what was apparently a young backwoods hick. But Emmett proved us wrong, proved us all wrong. He has a sense of her−a sense of what she needs that is uncanny. Edward may read her mind, but Emmett reads her heart.

The first few days after Emmett woke up, the two of them tiptoed around each other, uncharacteristically shy and awkward. There was an unfailing politeness and the chaste formality of a man and a new mail-order bride between them. Emmett was somewhat in awe of Rosalie, and she was still conflicted about what she wanted. People who don't know her just see the incredible beauty, the sharp tongue, and the strength she emanates. It's only those she trusts who see the aching vulnerability, the self-doubt and the psychic scars she bears.

She agonized over her decision in retrospect, confiding in me when she would not make Carlisle second-guess his own actions. He was already sick with guilt, and had had to leave the house for a few days to come to terms with what he regarded as his worst failing.

She sat beside me in the garden as I planted daffodil bulbs that would flower in the spring. The day was warm but the smells of autumn hung in the air, a promise of winter. "Do you think I've done the right thing?" she asked, picking at the grass.

"He'd be dead now if you hadn't brought him home," I said, digging at the earth with my spade. "Seems to me he's preferring the alternative."

"I know," she said, sighing. "I just don't know…I wonder if he…" She leaned forward. "Do you think he likes me?"

I looked at her, trying to cover my astonishment. Her golden hair fell in a shimmering sheet over her shoulder, shadowing her flawless face as her eyes dropped to the ground. If she'd been human, she would have blushed.

I sat back on my heels. "Rosalie," I said. "Have you seen the way he looks at you?"

"The way he looks at me?" she said in a near whisper from behind her curtain of hair.

I ducked my head so I could meet her eyes. "Yes, child," I answered, because she suddenly seemed so young. "He looks at you like…" I searched for the words, "you're an angel."

She jumped up, unable to sit still with the strength of the bitterness in her. She stood with her back to me, her arms wrapped around herself. "He doesn't know me," she said over her shoulder, her voice full of self-loathing. "I'm not an angel."

I rose off the grass, dropping my spade. I walked around so that I was facing her and took her shoulders in my hands. "To him you are," I said, trying to impress my words into her soul. She was so beautiful, yet so damaged. But it was a damage that could be healed if she allowed it, and I knew it was the part of her that wanted a life, that wanted love that had brought home that wounded, bloodied boy. "He wants to know you. You brought him home, now don't push him away."

"He−it…scares me," she whispered. Her head was down; it cost her a lot to make that admission.

I gathered her stiff form into my arms. "Oh, Rose," I said, stroking her hair. "Love is scary." I pulled back so I could see her face. "But you're one of the bravest women I've ever known. "

Her eyes slid to the side and she shook her head. "I can't…"

"Rose, they took your chance at life from you. Don't let them take your chance at love."

Her golden eyes met mine. I could see the war of fear and hope in her eyes. Then her eyes flicked over my shoulder, and I turned to see Edward striding out of the tree line. She patted my arm, absentmindedly and left for the house before she had to greet Edward.

Edward crossed the lawn as I watched her head back into the house. "Is she okay?" Edward asked. Things which had always been strained between the two of them were even more so since Emmett's arrival. I think not even Edward knew whether he was relieved or jealous.

"I hope so," I said as she pulled open the back screen door. "I sure hope so."

He frowned, putting his hands on his hips. "I still don't understand how she talked Carlisle into agreeing to making a new vamp−"

"Don't say it, Edward. Don't even say it," I said, surprising even myself with the harsh tone of my words.

I turned to him, his eyebrows were raised in surprise.

I sighed and put my hand on his face to soften my words. "You know so much, Edward, but you still can't read a woman's heart." I bent down, retrieved my spade and headed indoors. Sometimes I thought his gift put him at a disadvantage; he focused on what people were saying to themselves, not their feelings.

I was halfway across the lawn when I heard him mutter. "Well, if it's anything like their minds, maybe I shouldn't try." That made me chuckle.

A few days later, Emmett and Rose came in from outside, and I could tell something had changed between them. The formality had thawed, and there was a subtle bond, a shift in attitude that hadn't been there before. Suddenly, there were shared glances and secret smiles, 'accidental' touches and not so accidental ones. Rose would still suffer occasionally from episodes, but they would get fewer and fewer as time went on, and when the darkness did overwhelm her, Emmett was there, a silent shadow, taking care of her and fiercely protective of her privacy. Gently, like a mother with a child, he'd do the things necessary to see that she was safe.

When she'd come out of it, then we'd see the Emmett we knew, boisterous and curious, competitive and eventually flirtatious. He brought it out of her again, a _joie de vivre_ that had been taken from her but she found again in his arms. He brought her out of her past, where she'd been trapped and released her in the here and now.

Emmett is a big man, and that's often what people see most, but his heart is infinitely bigger. Those who know their story think that Rose saved Emmett. But I know, in truth, it was Emmett that saved Rose.

**Coach Clapp**

Did you ever have something you desperately wanted so close you could taste it, only to have it snatched away? Emmett Cullen showed up in Forks High School, built like a brick shithouse, broad in the shoulders as a dump truck, and you could tell just by the way he walked down the hall he was nimble, light on his feet. You see big guys quite a bit and you see quick guys, but big and quick? Rare, very rare. I could taste the State Championship. But he vehemently declined to try out.

The waste−oh, the terrible, terrible waste.

**Edward**

There's not a word that goes through Emmett's head that he wouldn't say out loud. Most of the time, that's all right. Sometimes, though, it would be better if he didn't feel the need to share. We were in Mrs. Cope's office registering for the first day of classes when she turned from the counter where we were standing, and we saw that the back of her skirt was tucked way high into her pantyhose, exposing her full backside. Now the discreet thing to do would have been to ignore it, then let one of her female coworkers know to advise her. Not Emmett, though.

Emmett looked at me. "I hope we're not _behind_ in these classes."

I rolled my eyes at him. Mrs. Cope answered over her shoulder from where she was bent over a stack of papers. "Oh, I'm sure the teachers will help get you up to speed."

Emmett leaned on the counter. "I'd hate to be in the _bottom _of the class."

I elbowed him, but he ignored it. "Well, just work hard, boys," she said, rifling through some papers. Her back was still turned to us, affording us a lingering view of her cotton undies, size ten.

"Oh, I will," he assured her. "But Edward here is a bit of a _bum." _

"Cut it out," I whispered, sotto voce.

"Come on, brother," he said cajolingly. "Just turn the other _cheek_."

"Here you are," she said, turning around and handing us some passes. "Get these signed by your teachers, and bring them back at the end of the day."

Emmett took his and snapped it between his fingers. ""Well, Just My Size."

I shot him another warning glance and took mine from her. "Thank you."

We turned for the door. "Geez," Emmett says. "You think there'll be a full moon tonight?"

Mrs. Cope was looking at us strangely, suspicion in her eyes.

"Sorry," I said to her as we exited, unable to finally help myself. "He's such an _ass_."

Our laughter trailed behind us. Someone finally told her about her, um, situation, and she realized what we'd been doing.

She never did take to Emmett or I after that.


	17. Drabble from Amelie Gray

**Penname**: AmelieGray

**Rating**: M

**Pairing**: Emmett & Paul

* * *

He's the type of guy you wouldn't look at twice in Seattle – long, black hair tossed back into a ponytail, leather jacket splattered with rain droplets as he shakes himself like a dog before slamming his butt into one of the hard seats. Hot, in a harsh, edgy sort of way; sharp, carved cheekbones and subtle muscles.

But definitely not Emmett's type.

Still, though, he can't help but give him that second glance.

And then a third.

The bus pulls off from the curb, and Emmett is temporarily distracted by the blonde with the fake boob job who makes a point of 'accidentally' sprawling over his lap as the driver steers them into the left lane. Maybe back when he was trying to play Mr. Nice Guy, follow the rules, keep to himself and be the ordinary, numb-skulled jock who nobody bothered and everyone adored, she would've been the type of girl hanging off his arm as he mingled in the crowds of his parents' latest cocktail party – fake, breathy, a passable fuck later that night as he took her against the wall or the bed, his breath heavy as he tried to forget the young man with the tight ass or the hungry eyes that he shouldn't (couldn't) want.

That's all changed, though. Emmett William McCarty is dead and buried, and even if this boy is probably out of his league, Emmett Cullen is within his rights to ogle his chest as he unbuttons his shirt slightly, fanning himself as though the barely occupied bus is stifling him.

Not that Emmett minds.

He looks up then, and their eyes meet. In the old days, Emmett would've looked away, blushed and stammered and given himself reasons on exactly why this was wrong – why wanting another man, why desiring the feel of another cock clenched in his fist and lips against his neck and a hard chest pressed up against his back is unholy, unsanctioned by God and the Archangels and the sour-faced pastor in his mother's parish that he always suspected was secretly fucking the organ player.

Emmett forces his eyes to stay locked with the stranger's. The young man's expression is blank, his dark brown eyes bland, dismissive. It is almost as though he is gazing past Emmett – or through him.

And then, for a brief second, Emmett sees an emotion; an errant thought, perhaps, that curls his lip upward and makes his face contort with distaste. It is a face he's seen before; an expression of disgust, the look on his father's face as he ousted himself to his parents, their rich, pampered friends dripping with distain and expensive brand name clothing, the team members who he thought were his other family, the friends who he thought would support him no matter what.

Just like that, though, the emotion vanishes, and the blank mask is carefully laid in place. And, as Emmett watches, he turns his head away, to the spare seat where he's rested his soggy backpack, reaches in to retrieve a neon blue Nano before plugging it in his ears.

Damn.

Cockblocked by Steve Jobs.

For the first time, Emmett can't seem to care. The boy's pretty much dismissed him. From that brief look at his inner thoughts, he might even be a homophobe, the type of guy who wrote 'fag' on Emmett's locker back in high school or threw a blind punch as he walked home in the dark.

He's not even Emmett's type.

But Emmett smiles as he leans back in his chair and watches the young man ignore him.

There's something more to this guy; he can feel it.

And even if it takes following him off the bus at his stop, he's going to find out exactly what it is.


	18. One shot from Miztrezboo

**Title****: ****Sun and Moon**

**Author**: Miztrezboo

**Genre**: AH

**Rating:** M

Waiting and watching sure, yet unsure that she will arrive and day and night will cease to chase each other through dawn and dusk. Will the man that cared be enough for the girl who doesn't care at all?

**A/N:** Betalove to the epic wielder of the red pen... the daring ILSUOCANTANTE and my preEVERYthing love, LIGHSTARDUST who is just epic. That is all!  
Fluffy unicorns and TOMMETT PICSPAMS to the gorgeous leaders of our Em Pack – Hmonster, AccioBourbon and sweet Ms Life aka TheHeartOfLife xo

Sun and Moon

She's always running late.

I know this.

I've sat outside in the dark, or stood in a crowded room alone waiting for her so many, _many_ times before. Why should this time be any different?

It should be. Today should be.

Today should be the day that I arrive to see _her_ waiting for me. All alone with her luscious plump lips pouting in indignation, because the tables have turned and it is she who taps a toe and watches an empty door.

But it is not.

It is me who sits. Who shifts in his seat and rubs a finger lightly around the top of his now empty glass. The remains of thirty-year-old scotch and two ice cubes long melted and consumed, the one vice I allow myself as I sit and watch, listening for the familiar _click click _of expensive heels across a once-polished floor. The warm dark timber is worn and dull after years of service.

Worn and dulled like me.

I am worn out. I am dulled from the once bright man who had been quick to smile and even quicker to have laughter flowing from even the hardest of stone hearts.

Not now.

Those times are just memories, fleeting and brief, much like her presence in my life. If I try to latch onto their particles, these tiny fragments of my time, they disappear like smoke. Curling, and fading around me, staying only long enough to warm my skin—but not my soul.

I should have known she'd be late.

I should have expected this.

Yet, I did the one thing I told myself I wouldn't.

I opened my heart to hope.

A stupid, foolish move. Something the younger man in me had done countless times before. The one who is now thirty-five should know better. The one who has life experience with women who have only used and abused him should know the rules by now.

Beautiful, smart and classy women only ever want the lowly working class hottie with the nice ass and dimpled smile for one thing.

Revenge.

Pure and sweet.

I'm the guy they see when the husband has been caught playing the field. I'm the man they have a little fun with when the money maker is away. I'm the bit on the side.

I'm almost a whore.

She's never made me feel that way. Not once.

Until now.

The longer I sit here-not checking my watch, not glancing nonchalantly at the entrance every time I hear the bell, not judging the seconds as frozen water returns to its liquid form-not doing any of those things, but still I recognize that she is not here. That she isn't coming.

That she may never come.

At what point does late become wishful thinking that she'll even consider arriving at all?

Today was supposed to be different. Today was supposed to be the one time that all the waiting and hoping and wishful thinking on wisps of dreams ended.

I was _supposed_ to get my dream today. Today was meant to be _my_ magic moment where unicorns are real and there are pots of gold at the end of rainbows.

Yet sitting here, the unicorns are really just horses with cardboard cones fitted to their heads. The pots of gold are tarnished and filled with chocolate money.

She's failed me. But worse, I've failed myself.

I should go. I should get up and leave now before I look as pathetic as I am beginning to feel. I should give the bartender a foolish half-grin and get my coat and walk out the door. I should walk out of this bar, this town, this country, even, and never look back.

I hear it's nice in Mexico this time of year. Hot and balmy, and maybe if I went to Baja I could learn to surf. There's no snow down there. No crisp, clean white wonderland that I walked through mounds of this morning in my effort to get here. Every small drift caused a spring in my step. All the stark nakedness, this bright blanket upon everything grey and dreary had me hopeful of what lay ahead in my life. A new life with her.

Or without, as the case may now be.

Maybe I'd even use that passport that I haven't touched since my cousin had one of those destination weddings in Fiji. I flew halfway around the world to see Garrett happily marry the woman of his dreams. His one. His everything. His Katie. I wanted that. I thought I'd found it with this girl. This woman who could hold a crowd with her entrance alone. Who could merely raise a brow and the unacceptable to her would become acceptable once more. All because of who she was with. Who she was attached to. Who thought he _owned_ her.

One didn't own this woman. This ethereal beauty.

I'd come to discover that the first time I'd met her.

Late night or early morning, whatever you want to call the witching hour when the clock struck twelve. She hadn't been alone. She very rarely was. She'd walked in and his hand had been at her waist, a slight frown on her perfectly manicured brow. I'd thought at the time she was one of 'those' socialites. The ones who suffer through parties they don't want to be at, merely to be seen. Who bantered playfully with CEOs, sons and playboys with six figure bank balances whose money came from trust funds.

I hadn't seen her crack a smile the entire time she'd eaten the small meal that our hotels bar had on offer. When she left her date at the booth after an hour, I didn't think she would meet my eye when I asked her what it was she wanted to drink.

But she did. Her gaze had been steady with my own, so much so that it rocked me to the core. Her eyes weren't above average or overly different. But they were warm. So warm compared to the icy exterior and carriage of the woman who'd impatiently tapped her fingers from pinky to thumb and back again over the warm wood of the bar top I'd previously polished to its mirror like gloss. She'd held me, melted me with that stare. Burning me with those slightly muted colors that swirled amongst rich tones, contrasting sharply with the poise and refined outer layer she wore.

She'd merely gazed in my direction, asked me for the use of our phone and when I'd told her that it was for staff use only, she'd rolled her eyes and asked me for a favor.

The first of many. The first that should have been the last.

Shouldn't have been at all.

She'd wanted me to call her cell, then hang up once she answered.

Simple. Effective. Something I'd done for plenty of women before. Those that needed an out and didn't have the heart to let the date of the night down with harsh words. A simple, "emergency," and, "I'll call you," did the trick, let the hopeful down with a tiny thread of maybe-there'll-be-a-next-time, when in truth there wasn't even a _this _time.

Women like her, though, so confident and refined, they didn't ask for favors like this. They usually drank more and ate less. Answered in clipped, short sentences that divulged nothing of who they were, or who they hoped to be. Women like her simply didn't talk with the 'staff' like me.

Yet, she had. She'd smiled when I told her it, "wouldn't be a problem, ma'am." She'd smiled and said ma'am was her mother. She'd stared at me for a moment after that. Thirteen and a half seconds, to be exact. She'd stared right into my eyes and smiled when I'd nervously grinned in response. My 'assets' on show, the deep dimples in each of my cheeks always garnered a response from those that were privy to their hidden presence in my skin. They had been the sole reason for an increase in tips when I'd finally learned their usefulness in the business life had lumped me with.

When you're suddenly homeless and jobless at age seventeen, you learn to use the gifts god gave you. Even if it does make you go home late at night and scrub your skin raw to rid yourself of the shame. But every smile was another dollar in my pocket, every purposeful bend at the waist, slyly shaking my ass to some song on the speakers, was another bill paid. Every lonely, bored housewife or socialite who wanted more than to just try the creations my hands could make with ice and fruit and liquor was another step on my way back to college, and out of the mess that an embezzling father and suicidal mother had left me.

A look from her alone had changed my entire outlook that night. I no longer thought of this job and sweet talking pretty women as a necessary evil. Because here I'd met her. Here she'd given me her number and told me to use it, and not just for the ridding of one upper class Manhattan rat. No, I'd made the call and she'd left without a glance in my direction. I'd shrugged it off, just another good deed gone unsung – but her number still made its way into my pocket. A week later, she'd been back again on the arm of some Harvard boy, and with another look into the seemingly endless depths of her eyes, I was doing her a favor once more.

And so it went, every Friday between eleven and one she would arrive, a look, a call and she'd be gone. It got so I never needed her to write with that familiar looping scrawl the numbers that were ingrained in my memory. So firmly stuck in my head that I'd begun reciting them instead of counting sheep at night.

Six months of this, and then it had stopped.

It was then I began doing favors for a dark haired man with a look to him that raised my hackles every time he slid on up to the bar. She never looked at me after he started bringing her around. I'd started off thinking that she was a strong, independent woman. Someone who knew what she did and did not want. Yet with him, she was different. Gone were the fake laughs, the questions filled with false interest. They were replaced with a quiet I didn't understand.

This new man did everything for her, and then ignored her. He'd order her hard liquor and shots instead of her glass of white. He'd talk to his friends about her, as if she wasn't there. Yet she said not a word. Never a glance in my direction. I never even saw her phone. I did, however, notice the ugly chunk of rock that was a new addition to her left hand.

Just like that, it all fell into place.

There was never to be anything more in our game. I was nothing more than a pawn in her dating war. The buffer between her and those that weren't up to whatever standards to which her bar was raised.. What I couldn't figure out was the man she was with now. He blatantly ignored her. It was obvious that she was just a pretty thing to dangle from his arm. To look at, to hold, but not treasure like at least half of the men she'd had me send away would have done. Like I-on the odd occasion-had wondered about doing.

What was it about _this_ man that made her settling? That had her accepting a marriage proposal from a man who obviously didn't know her? Didn't know and didn't want to _get _to know her. He was oblivious to who she was. The woman who laughed loud and snorted that one time her date somehow sucked a line of spaghetti through his mouth and out of his nose. The woman who would get this faraway look of sadness whenever they started talking about themselves and forget to ask about her.

She was interesting. She was intriguing-hell, even _I_ had wanted to know more about her.

Things changed with this new man, this fiancé of hers.

Never once did a bored look pass my way. No tiny roll of the eyes to indicate it was time I used those familiar numbers to fake an emergency. It wasn't like we had a relationship… well, I suppose we did of sorts, but now it was like I was being ignored. I was nothing to her, nothing more than the bar man who'd helped her out once in a while, and the realization, the popping of my balloon of 'like' with her, staggered me a little.

I settled for getting him the drinks she didn't want, but drank anyway. I settled for watching this stunning woman with the most amazing eyes shrink in front of me week after week, and on some occasions, day after day. She didn't just come on Fridays anymore. There were Saturdays, midweek all-nighters and sometimes four day benders. They would stay until she could no longer hold her head up, and then he and a friend would practically drag her from the bar. My hands itched to do something for her with the way they manhandled her, not caring when her head bounced into the door frame once or twice on the way out.

I did nothing, though, because I was nothing to her, and obviously, he was something.

It was another three months of this before his eyes met mine. Dark and menacing. Giving me more than the cause I had already to despise him. It was _he_ who asked me to fake a call, and wouldn't take no for an answer when I declined. When he brought up that he was old friends with the owners of the establishment and maybe he'd seen me drinking more than my fair share on the job, and how easy it would be for him to make a complaint … I picked up the phone and did as he asked.

Again, she never looked at me. He'd sweep out of the room with his so called friends after nothing more than a polite peck on her cheek and a 'Later, babe.' She'd sit there on her own for another few hours, then quietly put a few bills on the table and leave.

I relegated myself to the background as these events turned to second nature, of their arrival and his early departure. So much so, that I dropped the glass I'd been polishing- ever so cliché like-when her voice, the one I hadn't heard in months, met my ears.

"I suppose you think I'm pretty stupid."

I looked up into eyes that had haunted my dreams since I'd met her, and was stunned by the sadness and melancholy that lingered in their depths.

"Stupid?" I stuttered as I bent down to escape her burning gaze for a moment, and picked up the shattered pieces of glass from the floor.

She didn't say anything further, just waited for me to finish cleaning, and when I'd disposed of the mess, she was still there at the bar.

Stone cold sober. I hadn't served her a drink once that night and she'd come in alone. It was the first time I could recall she'd come in without someone dangling on her arm, especially _him_

Why I hadn't realized then, or even now, that it had been different, that her coming in on her own should have been worthy of my attention, I'll never know. Maybe I'd been too preoccupied with my thoughts of her that I'd ignored the fact she'd walked in the door.

"Yes. I've seen the way you look down at me. The stupid girl that drinks too much and lets her man walk all over her. I've seen the pity in your eyes."

I didn't know what to say.

We'd never spoken more than a few sentences to each other, and she'd accused me of something that I wasn't. Something that I wouldn't be with her. Not her.

"I think you're confusing pity for caring. Or maybe you've never had anyone worry about you before," I said softly, hoping that she could find the sincerity behind my words.

She blinked. The stormy blue-gray pupils disappeared behind thick black lashes and reappeared again, still making my heart stutter, skip a beat, for just that one second when their brilliance shone bright with the overhead lights.

Even as annoyed with me as she apparently was, she was still, _still_, unbelievably beautiful.

Stunning.

Wild.

"Worry?" she'd spit out, like the word was dirty and left an awful taste in her mouth. She'd stared at me for a beat, then stepped back from the bar, dropping a large note on the counter. "What's there to worry about?"

Then she was gone.

Days passed and I thought about the strange almost-conversation I'd had with her. The look in her eyes and the way she'd looked at me. But most of all, under the harsh words and hard stare, the little girl lost that was hiding just below the shadows.

A week later, there was a note in my locker from one of the other barmen in my locker when I clock in to start my day. An envelope with a question on the front, asking about 'the girl' that we both knew from the bar, and just why it was she was leaving me notes. I opened it without a seconds thought,, and inside, one of our napkins with the words, "I'm sorry."

She was there that night, with him and his friends and I prepared to be a part of the furniture. I prepared to be insignificant and invisible once more. Yet the moment he left, she was up off the chair and sitting at the bar.

"So, tell me a story," she'd said, her voice tired and strained but her eyes had been light, interested, aware.

"A story?"

She'd shrugged and she smiled, the first I had been witness to in… I couldn't even remember how long. "Isn't that what you bartenders do? Tell long involved stories and fix your patrons' woes?"

"And here I thought we were only good for remembering drinks," I'd said as I set down a glass of her favorite Zinfandel and was rewarded with a quirk of one brow, until she'd sipped and she'd sighed and the smile was back, bigger than before.

"A priest, a rabbi and the Easter bunny walk into a bar…"

That was the first night tshe'd stayed until the end of my shift.

Soon, I caught her eye before he'd even started to drink. Then she'd turn and give me a smile that warmed me to the tips of my toes as she walked in the door. After that, she'd come in on her own, and that was when the flirting really began.

I shouldn't have wanted her. The Harry Winston, five carat, pear-shaped diamond that sparkled on her left hand said taken... but her eyes, her eyes did not. Her eyes said, "I'm lonely." Her eyes said, "I like that you like _me_." Her eyes said, "I want to be here with you."

Then her eyes stopped saying these things, because her mouth said them for her.

I gave in.

I succumbed to what I wasn't supposed to want, and even though she was 'taken' and couldn't be mine, I wanted her to be. I wanted to show her what it was like to have someone listen and want to know her. I wanted to show her what it was like to be…

Loved.

When the bar was slow one night, she being the only patron we'd had in hours since he'd left, Felix cornered me and told me to go. He alone had been privy to the slight drop in my armor when she was around. I'd let her get past the walls I'd put up from the expensive women with their expensive taste. _She_ was different. I knew it

I wanted to know it.

Felix said he'd close up. Felix nodded toward my golden-haired distraction and told me to take her home.

He never said whose.

Strangely enough, she took up my offer to walk her to her apartment, I knew enough by then to know that she lived only a block from the bar. It had felt so good, so right when she'd placed her hand in mine once we stood outside on the street in the cold fall air.

When we began walking, it was not in the direction of her home. When we stopped at the stairs to an apartment, it was I who produced a key and it was she that followed me inside. When I closed the door and reached out a hand to flick on the light, it was her voice, soft and feminine that stayed my fingers as they hovered just out of reach. It was her full lips that pressed gently to mine as her fingers wove into my hair.

That night, we didn't make it past the sitting room of my tiny studio apartment. We did, however, explore the threadbare carpet in the entranceway, the bench in the kitchenette and the one selling point of my humble abode-the bathtub.

She made me feel again.

She made every cell in my body come to life that first night. Bursting with energy from wherever her skin caressed my own. The revealing of pale skin when she slowly gathered her cobalt dress over her thighs, her stomach, her chest and, finally, off her too thin arms, was like the unveiling of a masterpiece. Her eyes dark and wanting matched my mood. The lust, the need. We'd flirted enough, touched, but not completely. This was everything we'd been slowly working toward every time he'd left her alone. Every secret smile, every parting glance, it had all led to this moment where she and I were more naked than without the garments that concealed our bodies during the day. The whole night had been like a dream, it had all happened so quickly.

It should have stayed that way.

It should have remained a one night stand.

Yet, the next night, and the next. She'd stayed back, or arrived just before closing. Our smiles had been filled with our secrets.

We had been fools to think no one would notice.

Soon, nights weren't enough for her. The few hours stolen between the end of my working night and the beginning of her social day were far too short. Our moments of shared bliss, of my body wrapped around hers, protecting her from the world outside the bubble we'd slowly made, hadn't been able to shelter her from the day when she was no longer within reach. I couldn't be there when she had to return to the world where the ring on her finger was more than just a claim to her name. She couldn't be mine in that way, but the night... the night was ours alone.

I wanted more. I pushed for it, knowing it wasn't mine to ask for.

I had fallen, though. Fallen so deeply into the blue of her eyes, the warmth of the smile that felt like mine. For the words she'd whispered hoarsely when she came. I'd made her give up more and more of her time. I'd stolen the day because our night had been too short. Not enough. I'd begged for moments, extra minutes and she'd given them to me. She would tell me, "anything for you, anything," and I'd believed her.

She was never on time to these rendezvous. She'd leave me waiting and wanting and then she would arrive just as I'd about given up hope. All the hours of mind-numbing clock watching would fade away because her lips would be on mine and we'd be falling back onto a bed that had likely seen more of its fair share of lovers engaged in situations much like our own. She'd never cared that the hotels we met in weren't of the five or even three star variety, and she'd refused to let me pay for somewhere more suited to a woman of her class . She hadn't wanted thousand thread count sheets, or chandeliers, or small overly priced Pringles cans in bar fridges. "Just you, only you," she would say and I would believe her. Every time we met only had me counting down until we could be together again.

Then _he_ went away for business.

And our nights and days became one long together.

No apart.

No stealing the sun and giving it to the envious moon.

Because the moon hadn't been envious anymore. The moon thought he had it all.

Yet, night always turned into day. The two must always separate, only joining for brief moments at dusk and dawn, where the dark and light blended into pinks and purples washing over the cityscape. We'd lived for each moment. Spent every possible second of every possible twenty four hours in each others' company. We'd been completely wrapped up in each other, the dates, the love... because it had felt like that for me and I was sure she'd nearly said it once.

My world revolved around hers. She was everything, she was the air in my lungs and the extra spark in my step. I'd lived for her smile, for the sound of my name as she whispered good morning and good night. So preoccupied and crazy in lust were we, that we'd forgotten the reason why the Night forever chased the Day. We'd ignored the possibility of the Day's minions having spies in the night. That _his_ friends were still around, even if _he _was not.

One Friday evening, she'd been waiting for me outside the service entry. She'd reminded me of a young Grace Kelly. What would have been a demure black dress on some was wrapped to her curves, accentuated the curve of her thigh where the hem hugged her legs tight. A perfect line of pearls curled around her neck and a gigantic black hat covered her face nearly as much as the dark round fames that hid her icy blues from my view. We'd watched Rear Window the previous weekend when she'd had a cold and I'd looked after her. Soup, back rubs, tissues-the works. Maybe the movie had been the cause of her change in style-not that she hadn't always dressed nicely-or maybe it had been something else, I'd never gotten to ask..

I'd stepped into the alley, my feet crunching on some stray gravel below caught her attention. She'd looked up and, taking a quick drag on the menthol cigarette she'd had, the house of cards we'd built so precariously began to fall.

"He knows."

Her voice had been soft, but the hidden edge behind those two words stopped my blood cold.

"Who?" I'd asked, stepping closer, but she'd only moved back. She hadn't wanted me near. It had been a stupid question to ask, because there was only _one_ person that she would have been referring to. Yet, ask I had.

She hadn't bothered to say anything in return, just blew another steady stream of minty smelling smoke up into the air, creating a barrier between us. Not entirely tangible, but there all the same.

She'd told me he'd said something, but it had been cryptic. Some questions about where she'd been and why his brother had seen her downtown when she was supposed to have been anywhere but there.

I'd told her to forget it, that it was just one time. One person.

But it hadn't been. There had been more. More sightings.. more times that the sun had eclipsed the moon, creating black voids where her absence and my presence had been noted as one and the same.

I'd told her it would be fine.

She'd been shaking by that stage, shaking so hard that she dropped the last of her cigarette to the ground and had almost fallen along with it, but my arms were faster, shooting out to hold her at the last second. She'd collapsed against me, breaking that icy facade one last time, and had begged me not to let her go. Begged me to stay. Begged me to run away with her. Leave all our problems behind and be some modern day Bonnie and Clyde without the bank robberies.

"We don't have to run away," I'd said, gazing intently into those grey blues that had been opened wide, so frightened. "I'll look after you. I won't let anything happen."

And I would. I'd wanted to be there for her, be the person she could rely on now that she had finally let me in and I'd finally let myself believe in something. Someone.

She'd fought me tooth and nail. "You don't understand," she'd said, pounding her fists, such delicate bones under pale white skin had been merely a beating of butterfly wings against me. "He's not... he's not right. He's not a nice guy, Emmett."

I'd tried to assuage her, to tell her that he was just angry. That anyone would be in his position and that it would be okay now. If he knew, we could be something more. God how my heart had ached for that. But she'd rallied and ranted that _he _had connections. He wouldn't be happy. It could get... bad. I'd brushed it off and assured her whatever her worst thoughts were, I could fix them.

No one would hurt her. Not _my _girl. Not ever.

We'd arranged to meet the next evening. She had to get some things together and then she would be back at the bar. No later than seven.

It's getting close to ten.

She isn't coming.

She wasn't ever going to.

I'd just been that added pawn in her game of drama. Bored socialite seeks good time with cute and good in bed lower classman.

I was so, _so _stupid to think she'd want me for anything more. That it could have been anything more.

I pick up my glass, surveying the bar one last time with a long look from the door to the back and to the door again-she could have slipped in and not have seen me. Which is a lie, I'm in a quiet bar, it's been slow here all night, but even if I'd missed her, Felix definitely wouldn't have from his place at the bar.

It's no use. She's not coming... but I can't give up. Won't give up. Maybe I'll never give up, but I will leave this bar. I will go home and pretend to sleep and pretend to care about my day, until the night comes again and I'll be here waiting for her. I take my glass to the bar, and consider having one last drink before I go. _She could come in at any time. She could still arrive. _

Felix just shakes his head and wanders to the other side where the expensive liquor is kept. Fuck it, I'll work overtime for a few of these, anything to help me sleep tonight without her in my bed.

I hardly notice the two women that enter and sit down beside me, both idly chatting about this and that. I don't notice the subject change or familiar names when they take a breath and speak with a quiet reverence that is usually reserved for the old or the dead.

"She went to school with my sister and then..."

"... a friend of mine was screwing him on the side, what's good for the goose..."

"Still, she didn't deserve that. No one deserves that."

I slowly drift back to the present with these tiny scraps of conversation that I've picked up. I can't be sure in my scotch-fueled haze if they said the name I think they said. My one. My girl.

They nod and say how tragic it is. How it was all over the news, didn't I see it?

I shake my head and each word that leaves the taller one's overly painted lips has my stomach filling with stones of dread and my limbs almost floating in this unreal yet utterly realistic world. It can't be.

It can't be.

Felix turns the channel on the TV we rarely use apart from the odd game of PGA golf – our clients aren't exactly the sports mad type.

It's her. It's her.

I know the photo they're showing of her on the screen. I was there with her that day, and because they leave it up there for a while, I can actually make out my hand beside hers, my feet just that little bit behind and out of syncopated step.

I want to throw up. Yet I can't tear my eyes away from the screen. From her. All the while the women beside me continue their running commentary on everything I don't want to believe has occurred, has in fact, happened...

Felix pours me another which I think I drink, but I can't be sure. I'm stunned. In shock. She was right all along.

..."Hale, twenty eight of the hotel and financier Manhattan Hales was found stabbed to death today in what detectives believe to be a murder-suicide by her fiancé, Mr. Royce King. Police are calling it a crime of passion and are urging any..."

I can't hear any more, there's only one word on endless repeat in my mind. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead.

She's gone.

She wasn't late after all.

I do throw up then, attempting to aim over the bar into the sink we have there but mostly missing. The women who are sitting beside me raise their brows and mutter something as they pick up their Prada handbags and leave through the doors I'd spent so much time staring at only minutes before.

Gone. Dead.

Rose.


	19. Drabble from BellaFlan

**Penname: BellaFlan**

**Title: **_**Dulce et Decorum est**_

**Rating: T**

**Pairing: Emmett and Rosalie**

**Summary: Vignettes of Emmett's last living and first waking thoughts. Drabbles.**

**Betas: Mac214 and jkane180

* * *

**

Teeth. Claws. Blood. Pain.

I thought I was immortal. Well, not really the live-forever kind of immortal, just that I wouldn't die. Not that I was deluded or anything. Pride and stupidity were the hazards of mortal youth. Hell, what twenty-year-old man really thinks about death... unless he's at war? I suppose if I'd fought in the War, I'd have more respect for death.

I dunno.

The soldiers probably felt immortal, too - that is, until their guts were blasted clean from their stomachs. I'd seen pictures from the Great War of Wars... _the war to end war_. My uncle was disemboweled by an M1917 rifle in the field. I bet he didn't feel very patriotic dying in a foxhole.

Dad liked to prattle on about glory and death. Shit. Not me, man. That was never for me.

I wanted to live.

"Am I dead?"

"No... you're something else."

I felt empty and restless; a memory of something I couldn't touch was making me crazy.

"My head hurts," I complained.

"Your head can't hurt."

"My throat..."

"Yes, I imagine that does hurt quite a bit."

"I'm thirsty. May I have a drink?" My eyes didn't want to open. I was being rude, lying on the

ground with my hands over my face. Something felt off.

"What do you want to drink?" Aw, shit. The voice was female.

"I don't know." There should have been more rasp to my own voice.

"Water?" The voice laughed bitterly.

My body felt repulsed at the thought of drinking water. There was something else.

"You're an angel?"

"No," said the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen. She couldn't be human. Real women didn't look

that good. "I'm something else, Emmett."

She said my name as if it belonged to her. I loved the sound of it coming from her lips. Her mouth was big and soft, and I wanted to press my own against it.

More than anything, I wanted to kiss her.

Well, not quite more than anything. I wanted something else more. The thirst. I wanted it to end.

"I want..."

"Yes?" She seemed to hold her breath. "What do you want?"

"You..."

"I'm yours," she said automatically. "What else?"

"The bear..."

She smiled. My angel suddenly looked like a demon. "I have a surprise for you."

Teeth. Claws. Blood. Bliss.


	20. A Drabble by Klutz82

**Title:** On Lust and Love

**Author:** klutz82

**Rating:** PG-13

**Pairing:** Emmett/Rosalie

**Summary:** When things changed from lust into love…

* * *

It was lust.

The feeling I had for her was called lust. My eyes saw the beautiful shape and called it an angel. My ears heard her voice and called it a melody. My nails dug into her hips without tearing her flesh, but I called her delicate. Blood was what I needed, but she was what I desired.

It was lust for her too.

From the moment she caught my scent, the blood on the bear's claws, she couldn't turn away. When she saw my delirious smile and my dark hair matted with dirt and debris, she had to have me. At the moment she tasted me, she couldn't get enough.

Everything changed the moment I brought foreign blood home.

For the first time in this body, my instincts took over, blinding me from my lust and my family. It happened in less than a minute. I was on a routine trip downtown. The girl was blocks away, but the wind blew through the buildings just right. She didn't get to turn the corner before I tackled her into an alley. She didn't get to scream. I had too much time for regrets.

Somehow, she knew. Before I showed up to the house, she knew what had happened. Staring at me with an expression I couldn't quite figure out, she led me upstairs to our bathroom and started wiping the little blood still on my hands with her expensive white towel. Dejected, confused, angry, and scared, I let myself run through every negative emotion in the book as she kept cleaning me off with a soft and reassuring touch.

I tried to speak when she finished. She shook her head and placed the softest kiss on my forehead. It faintly reminded me of the mother I left behind.

It was love.

From then on, the feeling I had for her was love. Every time she walked into the room, I remembered the calm and understanding demeanor. Every time she spoke, I heard the almost silent kiss. Every time her hands touched an object, I felt those fingers healing my cracks once again.

It was love for her too.

As soon as I came near, her eyes never left me. Whenever I laughed too loud at a bad joke, she smiled. Each time I kissed her…

Well, some things never do change.


	21. One Shot by Shouvley

**Penname**: Shouvley

**Title**: Brothers

**Rating**: M

* * *

When I was 3 years old, the only thing I wanted for Christmas was a Power Wheels Jeep. You know, the kind that you could drive around the yard and use to mount the front steps with. I wanted it. I _needed_ it. I couldn't talk about anything else - literally nothing else. (I _was_ 3 after all.) Every night when I said my prayers, I'd add in a special request for my Jeep. Dad tried to explain to me that God didn't really deal in Power Wheels, but I wasn't swayed. I knew that there was a connection between Jesus and Santa, even if I couldn't quite explain it at that age.

A few days before Christmas, Mom took me to the mall to see Santa. I waited anxiously, dancing around so much that Mom asked me if I had to go to the bathroom. I scowled at her. Even if I did have to pee, I wasn't getting out of line, even if it meant wet pants at the end. When I finally got up to the front of the line, I was less than diplomatic when I told Santa that if I didn't get my Jeep, I wouldn't believe in him anymore. He looked anxiously at Mom, but just shook her head, obviously wondering how she could be the mother of such a precious child. Santa cleared his throat and turned back to me, letting me know that he'd see what he could do.

On Christmas Eve, Dad helped me set out Santa's cookies and milk (and of course a carrot for Rudolph). I wanted to write a note reminding Santa about my Jeep, but I didn't know how to write. Mom and Dad were mean and wouldn't write one for me. They said Santa knew exactly what to get me without me writing a note.

I hoped they were right.

I went to bed with visions of taking out the front porch with my Jeep dancing through my head.

I woke up the next morning before it was even light out. I ran downstairs while my parents were still sleeping, though I probably woke them when I pounded down the stairs. I didn't see my Jeep under the tree, but that was okay. It would have been impressive if Santa had fit it under there.

I looked in the dining room, since that was closest to the chimney. Nothing.

I looked in the kitchen to see if he'd left my Jeep there while he was eating his cookies. Nothing.

I looked out the window to see if it was in the front yard. Nothing but snow.

I hung my head and walked back toward the tree. There was some stupid G.I. Joe crap under there that I figured was for me but I had trouble caring. It wasn't my Jeep.

Mom came downstairs eventually and found me curled up under the tree, crying my eyes out. She brushed my hair back and tried to explain that Santa couldn't give me as much this year, because I was getting something better for my birthday.

My eyes lit up. Was I getting a tree house? That would be so much better than a Jeep.

Mom shook her head. No, instead I would be getting a brother.

I looked at her, wide-eyed, before I threw myself back on the floor and sobbed even harder. I didn't want a brother! I wanted a Power Wheels Jeep! That kid had ruined absolutely everything already, and he wasn't even born yet. And so the sibling rivalry began.

Ten years later, I was getting ready for my 14th birthday party. I was planning to have a bunch of guys over to stay the night. I made sure that we had all the best movies, snacks, and games. We were going to watch the Washington football game, play capture the flag, and go hiking in the woods.

I wanted to make sure that everything was going to be awesome. That meant Edward could be nowhere nearby.

He was just so…dorky. I know that people say that kind of stuff about younger brothers and that you're supposed to like them anyway, but obviously those people didn't have Edward for a brother. I didn't think it was possible for another human being to be as annoying as Edward. He had to win the prize for Most Annoying Younger Brother. He was always sticking his nose in my business, telling me that I was doing things wrong, and even trying to talk to my friends. That was definitely not allowed. I couldn't have my friends knowing how lame he was. What if they thought it was hereditary and thought I was lame too just because of him?

That was exactly why I had to keep him away from my party.

In order to make sure nothing went wrong, I begged Mom to send Edward to Grandpa's house for the night. She denied it of course - something about not showing favoritism - though obviously, since she wasn't listening to me, she was proving that Edward was her favorite.

The night of the party, about a half-hour before everyone was supposed to arrive, Edward strolled into my room and sat on my bed.

"Looking forward to tonight?" he asked.

I nodded, a little confused as he knew that I was excited about my party.

"I bet it would have been a good time," he said casually. Then he stood and left the room. It took a second for his words to sink in.

"What do you mean 'would have been'?" I shouted, chasing him down the hall.

I found out later that night what he meant. In the boxes of all of the movies I rented, chick flicks were mysteriously in the place where the action movies should have been. When I went to get the popcorn, I found celery in its place. I tried to turn on the football game only to find that we no longer got the channel. I was getting angrier and angrier, and I knew exactly who to blame. Edward had changed out the discs in the cases from the video store with movies in Mom's personal collection of Lifetime movies. He hid the junk food and replaced it with the first vegetable he'd ever asked Mom to buy for him. He even called the cable company and had the sports package removed from our plan.

He was jealous that I wasn't including him, so he decided to make my night a living hell. Instead of tattling to my parents like I would have done as an immature 13-year-old, I decided that since I was 14 now, I should handle it maturely. I wouldn't rat him out. Instead, I would go on a passive-aggressive rampage.

For the next three months, I planned on making sure he wouldn't take a shower without me flushing the toilet. I'd hide his homework, make noise late at night, and swap out his lunch with dog food. I had grand plans that involved peanut butter in his shoes, cutting the brakes on his bike, and putting small woodland creatures in his bed.

Unfortunately, Mom caught on rather quickly and punished both of us. I was indignant, explaining over and over that I was provoked, but it didn't seem to do any good. Mom was convinced we were both guilty, and no amount of arguing on my part was going to sway her.

At least Edward was grounded for two weeks longer than me, though I'd been pulling for life without parole.

When I was sixteen, I finally got my Jeep. It was red and huge and everything I had ever wanted in a car. Mom thought I was being spoiled, but Dad insisted it was a reward for keeping up my grades while I was playing football. For some reason Mom seemed to think that I shouldn't be rewarded for that, it should have been expected. Thankfully Dad won that argument.

Stella was gorgeous. Yes, I named her Stella, mostly because she was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen, and only a little bit because I wanted to run across the parking lot after school screaming, "STELLA!"

I did.

It was awesome.

Right after Stella came into my life, I was willing to drive her anywhere. When Mom needed groceries, Stella and I were gone to the ThriftWay before she even finished telling me her list. When Edward wanted to go to Ben's house, Stella was his vessel of transportation. When it was time for him to go to piano lessons, Stella was more than generous to drive him there and back every week.

After a while, things started to become routine. After Edward's lesson on Wednesday nights we'd stop at the ice cream stand and each get a cone. We'd sit on the bench that faced the road and watch the cars drive by while we ate our ice cream.

Eventually, the appeal of driving faded. It just wasn't as exciting as it used to be. I was still as in love with Stella as ever, but I preferred to admire her parked in the driveway. Gas is expensive! I still ran errands for Mom, but only when she asked. I still picked up Edward from piano, but that was getting to be a chore too.

I didn't really want get a job, but Stella needed gas and car washes. She was a high maintenance woman. I landed a job at the diner after school, and it was exhausting. The last thing I wanted to do after my shift was leave the house again to get Edward from piano. One day, I made Mom get him. When they got back, I was laying on the couch, watching wrestling and considering a nap. I looked up as Edward walked in the house, about to invite him to sit down and watch with me, when he glared at me and stomped past, slamming the door to his room.

I sat up and looked at Mom who was lowering herself into a chair across the room.

"What's going on with him?" I asked.

"He was expecting you to pick him up," she answered with raised eyebrows, like it was obvious I should have figured out what was bothering him.

I shrugged my shoulders. "Wow, way to overreact," I said, lying back down on the couch.

"You know, he looks forward to that," Mom said with a hint of annoyance in her voice. Annoyance at me.

I shot her an incredulous look. Why would Edward look forward to me driving him home from piano? What difference does it make who does it? It would be a long time before I realized that those rides home were the first real evidence of sibling bonding.

I went away to college right before Edward started high school. I figured it was going to be a tough time for him, so before I left, I tried to give him all the advice I could. I told him that Mr. Banner would never notice if you left your notebook open on the floor during a test. I explained that when taking an oral exam in Mrs. Martinez's Spanish class, all he had to do was make sure to tape the answers to the front of the teacher's desk at the beginning of class. I told him about which days to pack lunch, which lockers always stuck, and ways to convince Mom and Dad he was at a sleepover, when really he was out drinking with his friends.

When I finished the explanation, he stared at me for a few moments with his mouth open. Then he blinked a couple of time and ran downstairs.

That little bastard. After I took the time and effort to impart all of this life wisdom to him, the first thing he did was run to Mom and tattle on me.

"Emmett cheated on every test in high school and he went to a drinking party!" I heard him yell as I rounded the corner into the kitchen. Edward's hand was pointing in my general direction and he had a smug look on his face. There was nothing I wanted more than to pummel his scrawny ass. Instead, I turned to face Mom.

Now, I wasn't horribly scared of my mother. She had to know that I didn't cheat on _every_ test (just the ones in science and Spanish) and I was also pretty sure she knew I went to a couple parties that involved alcohol. Like I said, I wasn't horribly scared, just completely terrified that she was going to take Edward's word for it and ground me for the rest of the summer. Instead, she surprised both of us.

"Edward, why are you trying to get Emmett in trouble?" Mom asked.

Edward looked at her like he was considering committing her. "Because he did something wrong, and he should be punished?" he replied, speaking slowly for her benefit.

Mom just shook her head. "Edward, your brother was trying to help you. He was giving you advice – not that I approve of all of it –" At that moment she looked pointedly at me and I knew there would be no more drinking underage while I was under her roof. "You chose to use it against him. Why should he ever try to help you again?"

"I don't need his help," Edward pouted.

Mom just rolled her eyes and walked away.

"I'll remember you said that," I sang as I left the room.

I didn't take him long to change his mind. After the first day of school he was calling me at my dorm, asking for advice. I made sure to remind him that he said he didn't need my help. He apologized for acting like a brat, and I only made him grovel a little bit before I let him start rambling out his question. Apparently, he'd met a girl named Bella.

I went to college in Seattle, and it was a good time. It was just far enough away that I couldn't go home every weekend, but it was close enough that my parents and I could meet in the middle if necessary. Mom reminded me of that when I was feeling a little apprehensive about being so far away. I tried to play it off, but she always saw right through me.

It was the first time in my life I remembered not playing football, but I was getting through it okay. Especially when I saw the hits the guys on the field were taking. There was no way I'd be able to take hits like that and still be able to think straight in my classes. Classes were tough enough without head injuries. It wasn't anything I couldn't handle, but I spent a lot of my time at the library and not nearly as much time partying as I'd anticipated.

As I was busy mourning my lack of a social life, Edward was blossoming. Of course he was still the same dorky kid he was in middle school, but he was dating the cutest girl in his grade, and that automatically raised him up a few rungs on the social ladder. And Bella _was_ cute. In a younger sister, annoying kid kind of way.

As much as I was enjoying school, I was looking forward to Christmas break. I hated admitting it, but I kind of missed home. There was something calming about being at home. Everything just made sense. There weren't any surprises in Forks, and for that I was very grateful. College seemed to have more drama than high school sometimes.

My friends were home from school too, so I hung out with Jasper and Alice a couple times. They had just started dating (after staring at each other longingly for years), so I kept feeling like a third wheel. I couldn't go anywhere with them without feeling awkward, so I decided I would just spend some time with Edward. He was the awkward one in the family, so I'd feel normal in his presence.

If I thought I felt like a third wheel with Alice and Jasper, I was completely unprepared for the feeling I got while hanging out with my 14 year old brother. His girlfriend wasn't even there! While we were out to dinner, she texted him twice and called him once. His eyes lit up when he saw her name on the phone, but asking him to a Christmas party really couldn't wait until after dinner?

I sighed loudly, waiting for him to get off the phone. When he finally hung up he had this goofy smile on his face, and it was almost contagious. Almost. Instead, I sulked at my own lack of love life. Seemed a like a good plan to me. I may have also casually mentioned the odds of high school romances lasting past graduation.

All I got was a glare.

Time went quickly over the next few years. I kept my grades up and joined a fraternity on campus. When I was home for the summers, I worked at a sporting goods store as a part time job, just to keep some money in my bank account during the school year.

Things started getting more and more difficult when my friends stopped coming home for the summers as well. Jasper had gotten a summer internship at a newspaper in Seattle, and Garrett was taking summer classes.

Pretty much everyone else was in the same situation. They'd gotten jobs or internships outside of Forks. Really, I couldn't blame them. Forks was a dying town, and there was no reason for them to stay when Seattle and Portland held so much more promise.

I just wished they would have waited to move until I was ready to move too.

Since I was on my own pretty much all the time, I spent a fair amount of time with Edward. It was nice to have someone to go grab a burger with at the diner after getting off of work. We would just joke and laugh about our days, and I was thankful that he and Bella were finally maturing and realized they could go a few hours without talking to each other.

That didn't mean that he wasn't with Bella almost all the time. She joined us for dinner occasionally, as did Ben, Angela, and Connor at one time or another.

It was a sad day when I realized I'd spent more time with Edward's friends in a week than my own all summer. It got to be an inside joke around the family, asking if I was running a day care as I always seemed to be with a group of kids four years younger than me.

I took it in stride. I'd never say it out loud, but sometimes I had more fun with Edward's friends than I had with my own.

After I graduated, I moved into a small apartment in Seattle. The walls were thin, the water pressure was weak, and it was about the size of a shoebox, but it was mine. I worked as an intern for the Seahawks. It was basically a dream come true. The pay wasn't great, but there was opportunity for advancement, so it was kind of amazing.

One night I was working late, making sure everything was prepared for a presentation the next morning, when my phone vibrated in my pocket. I ignored it, letting it go to voicemail. I'd return the call later. When my phone immediately started vibrating again,I sighed and pulled it out. This had better be important to be calling twice in two minutes. The caller ID showed "Mom." She rarely used her cell to make calls, choosing instead to use it as a glorified alarm clock to remind her to take her blood pressure pills. The fact that she was calling me made me a little apprehensive about what was waiting for me on the other end of the line.

"Hello?"

"Oh thank god, Emmett!" Mom responded, sounding frantic.

"What's wrong?" I questioned, breath catching in my throat.

I heard her taking a deep breath and it sounded like she had been crying. I couldn't take it.

"What happened?" I urged.

"It's Edward," she squeezed out. "It's Edward. He was in an accident. He wrapped his car around a tree. It's bad, Emmett," she ended in a whisper.

My stomach dropped, and I grabbed the chair that was next to me to steady myself and focused on breathing in and out.

"They're LifeFlighting him to Harborview," she continued. "He should be there in about a half hour. Can you get there?"

I started walking from the room before she even finished. I had my keys in my hand and was running toward the stairs as I responded.

"Yeah. I'll be there. I'll call you when I get there," I assured her.

I ended the call and started going down the stairs two at a time. I was on the main level and about to turn down the final stairway to the parking garage when I noticed how badly my hands were shaking and decided against driving. The last thing Mom needed was another son in the hospital. I ran out the front door, past a security guard who looked at me curiously, and into the Seattle rain. I started in the direction of the hospital, hailing a cab as I jogged. When one finally stopped I threw myself into the back and practically screamed my destination to the driver.

Traffic wasn't bad, but it wasn't moving as quickly as I wished it would. I grabbed onto the headrest in front of me and bounced in anticipation. I did my best to think positive thoughts, knowing that if I showed up expecting the worst, I wouldn't even be brave enough to walk in the building.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the cabbie pulled up in front of the main entrance and I pulled cash from my wallet. I'm not sure how much I threw at him, but I'm pretty sure he got a generous tip.

I ran inside and found the information desk. The woman sitting there looked to be in her mid-40s and disinterested in her surroundings. As I approached, she noticed my almost frantic state and straightened slightly in her chair.

"Edward Cullen," I said, slightly out of breath. "He's being LifeFlighted."

The woman nodded and started punching keys on her keyboard. I could see changes in the screen reflected back in her glasses before she finally told me, "He's in the ER right now but scheduled to go up to surgery shortly. I can have someone show you to the surgical waiting room," she offered.

"No," I shook my head. "I need to see him now. My mom needs an update NOW," I emphasized.

"I don't know if you'll make it but you can try," she said. I looked back and forth impatiently, searching for a sign that would point me in the direction of the emergency room. Finally she continued, "Just go down those stairs there, take a right, then a left. That should put you right there."

I nodded my thanks and tore off toward the stairs she indicated. I practically threw myself down them, knowing I was so close to Edward. He needed me and I didn't want to keep him waiting a second longer than he had to.

I turned right like the receptionist had instructed and just before I turned left I glanced into the room on my right and saw Edward strapped to a bed with doctors and nurses moving around him urgently. Without stopping to think I threw the door open and ran to the head of the bed.

"Edward!" I shouted, though he was right there. The staff turned and looked at me, and one of the nurses even took a step toward me, trying to move me from the room, but I didn't let anyone stop me. "He's my brother!" I yelled. He was unconscious as I grabbed his hand and squeezed, willing him to wake up.

Suddenly, he opened his eyes and looked at me. It took his eyes a second to focus, but when he realized it was me, he smiled the goofiest smile I've ever seen.

"Emmett! 'Sup man?" I had to hold back a laugh. Edward had never said "sup" before in his life. He was conscious...and seemed to be enjoying his painkillers.

"I'm good," I said with a chuckle. "How're you doing?"

"I have to get my spleen taken out," he informed me, as though it were a proud accomplishment. I nodded and pretended I understood. I knew there was such a thing as a spleen, but I wasn't really sure what it did. One thing I knew for sure was that people can live without a spleen, so I didn't worry too much.

By that point the staff had stopped staring at me, and just seemed to be working around me, realizing I wasn't going anywhere.

"What happened?" I asked, squeezing his hand.

He looked up at the ceiling as he tried to remember. "I was on my way to Bella's for her birthday," he began. "I was probably about a mile from her house when a deer ran in front of me. I swerved, missed the deer, and ran straight into a tree. Hurt like hell."

"I can imagine," I agreed.

Edward suddenly looked frantic. "Do you think Bella knows I'm here? Did someone call her?"

I nodded. "I'm sure Mom did," I assured him. He didn't look satisfied, and I knew what I had to do. "Do you want me to call her right now?"

He nodded vigorously, and I pulled my phone out. I had Bella on speed dial since she was less likely to ignore my calls than Edward if I needed to get in touch with him. I hit the send button and waited less than one ring for a frantic voice to pick up.

"Emmett, tell me he's okay," she pleaded.

"He has to have his spleen out but he's awake and talking right now," I informed her.

"Oh thank god," she sighed. "I'm on my way with your parents but we're still probably an hour away."

As soon as I started replying again, Edward was motioning that he wanted the phone but his arms were held down, IVs in both. He whined at me - actually whined - and I knew what I had to do.

"Bella, Edward wants to talk to you, but he can't hold the phone so I'm going to put it on speaker."

I pulled the phone away and hit the speaker button, nodding at Edward.

"Bella?" he called into the air.

"Edward," she sighed. "Thank God. I love you so much. I'm sick with worry right now."

"Bella, I'm so sorry I'm ruining your birthday," Edward confessed.

I looked at him incredulously, and I'm sure Bella's face matched mine.

"Edward, the only way that you could ruin my birthday is by not coming out of that surgery, so that's all you need to do for me. Okay? Can you promise me that?"

Edward agreed and started on some ridiculous profession of his unending love that was a little melodramatic, even for him. I really wished I was getting it on tape. This doped up state would be good to tease him with later.

Finally, Edward ended his declaration with a Titanic-inspired, "I'll never let go, Bella. I'll never let go." I restrained my laughter and ended the call with Bella after promising to call with any updates.

After another couple of minutes, one of the doctors answered the phone on the wall then turned to me. "Surgery is ready for him," she informed me.

I nodded and bent down to look Edward in the eye. "Be strong," I implored.

He nodded and squeezed my hand as the bed started rolling away. As he moved out of sight, I tried very hard to remember that it was highly unlikely this was the last time I'd ever see my brother. He was going to come through this just fine.

One of the nurses stayed behind and put a comforting hand on my shoulder. "I'll show you to the surgical waiting room," she offered. I nodded and let her lead me out, steering me as I wasn't really in control on my movement. I seemed to be having an out of body experience.

She ushered me into an elevator and pushed the button for the 4th floor. I leaned against the back wall and stared at my feet, willing time to move faster so Edward could be out of surgery and just be _safe_. Apparently my anxiety was obvious because the nurse started speaking.

"Your brother is in good hands," she assured me. "He has great surgeon working on him. Surgery is surgery, but it looks good," she said, laying her hand on my shoulder again.

I turned my gaze down to meet hers and gave her a small smile, letting her know that I appreciated her efforts, but it would take a lot more than a few comforting words to make me feel better in this moment. She seemed to understand and when the doors opened she led me down the hall to a room with a television and a few uncomfortable looking chairs.

"Unfortunately, this is the best we have to offer," she said with a shrug. I nodded and sat down, pulling my phone out to check the time. Edward's surgery would take 3 hours and I needed to start a countdown.

"How far away is your family?" she asked.

I shrugged. "Probably another hour or so."

At that she plopped down next to me and picked up the remote.

"What are you doing?" I questioned.

"I'm off the clock, and you look like you shouldn't be alone right now, so I'm going to stay here until your family gets here."

I just shrugged at her, indicating that I didn't care either way. "Whatever you want to do…" I trailed off, checking her ID for a name. "Rosalie."

Edward came out of surgery fine and was completely back to normal within a few weeks.

Three years later, Rosalie and I were planning our wedding, and I was over the moon about it. She was everything I could have ever wanted in a woman and more. She was beautiful, smart, and put me in my place when I deserved it. Yeah, it was pretty much love at first bitch-out.

Through pretty much our entire relationship, Edward couldn't seem to stop reminding us that it was because of him that we were together in the first place. He was even more annoying than he had been as a child. It pissed Rosie off something fierce.

I guess it wasn't a surprise since they usually didn't see eye to eye. It all started when Edward was recovering in the hospital. Rosalie thought he should have thanked me for rushing to make sure he was all right. Edward – never one to be told what to do – resented her for getting involved when she barely knew him. They were off to a rocky start, and when I continued to see her after Edward was discharged, he was none too happy about it. Something about dating a "superbitch." I gave him shit about it and didn't speak to him until he apologized. It took three weeks, and it was halfhearted, but I was sick of fighting with him so I accepted.

I did my best to keep them apart, but there were times it couldn't be avoided. I knew I was falling for her, and it really hurt that she couldn't get along with my brother. He was the most important person in my life next to her, and I wanted them to be able to be in the same room with each other. I didn't think it was too much to ask, but they did. They glared at each other at every possible opportunity and for some reason, Rose disliked Bella for the simple reason that she was dating Edward. Apparently, anyone who could stand Edward was not a worthwhile human being in her book. I was the only exception, and it was starting to grate on me.

I never said anything about it, but both of them knew they would have to find a way to coexist because I wasn't interested in removing either one of them from my life.

It was really wearing on me as the date of the wedding drew nearer. Things weren't getting any better between the two of them, and I knew they would be spending a lot of time together, since Edward was going to be my best man. I shuddered to think of how they would act around each other at the rehearsal dinner.

One night I came home from work to find Edward and Rosie sitting at the kitchen table waiting for me. I'm sure I looked shocked because Edward just laughed and told me to sit. I followed his instruction, hoping to find out quickly if I was in the Twilight Zone. An alternate universe would be the only explanation for finding the two of them being civil to each other.

"What's going on?" I asked.

Rose took my hand, and Edward started speaking. "I know Rosalie and I haven't always gotten along, and I know that it really bothers you, so I asked her to lunch today and we've decided we're going to try to work out our differences."

I just stared at him. They went to lunch?

"How long have you been planning this?" I asked.

"He just sprung it on me today. Met me at the hospital with a bag of food and didn't really give me much of a choice," she said with a hint of the annoyance I'd come to expect from their interactions. "Though if he had, I probably wouldn't have accepted the invitation."

"Did you come to any specific conclusions?" I prompted.

Rosie looked down at the table with a shy smile. "Edward isn't really that horrible," she informed me. "If I would have taken the time to pay attention before, I would have noticed that he really does care about you and I shouldn't be such a bitch just because we're so hardheaded."

"Yeah, Rosalie isn't so bad," Edward continued. "I assumed a lot of things about her that now I know were pretty far off-base. We're both willing to put some effort into this."

I smiled at both of them. "You're not just saying this to make me feel better? You're really going to try?"

They both nodded, and I was over the moon. I should have known that Edward would work this out. He was always the level headed brother, always thinking things through from every angle. He must have thought about what the future looked like and didn't like what he saw.

I was thankful in that moment for the brother my parents gave me and the woman that he helped bring into my life. If it wasn't for Edward my life would have been a much different place.

I guess I did get a gift for my fourth birthday after all.


	22. One Shot from Aspenleaf

**Penname**: Aspenleaf

**Title**: Emmett's Chinese Adventure

**Rating**: M

No pairing, just Emmett

**Summary**: Sent to China on business for three weeks, Emmett is determined to make the most of his visit. After meeting a series of interesting people he manages to bring home a few souvenirs for his friends. A prequel to my o/s, 'A Dose of Reality'.

**A/N**: Many thank you's to my betas Lambcullen and Daisy, for betaing this on such short notice. And to the lovely ladies that put this together for the big guy, what an awesome idea this was! Thank you for the opportunity to participate.

~I~I~I~

I stretched and tried to loosen the kinks in my legs and back. When I was given the chance to come here I was nothing but excited about the opportunity. It was the furthest I'd ever been from home.

_Mental note, Emmett... next time bite the bullet and upgrade to first class._

Though the economy wasn't the best and my company was trying to save money, I was too damn big to fly coach for that many hours.

Making my way off the airplane, I was greeted by a nice man named Lee. He would be my driver while I was here in Beijing. Disappointed at not being able to drive myself, I picked up my bags and followed him to the car.

After a thirty minute drive from hell, we arrived at my hotel.

_Did I say disappointed about driving? I meant grateful._

I patted my various body parts, making sure everything was still intact and tried to get my legs to stop shaking. How on earth do people maneuver their cars that way?

I chuckled under my breath, thinking Edward would get a kick out of trying.

After dropping me at my hotel, Lee left, promising to return at eight a.m. the next morning.

Dragging my tried sore ass up to my room, I fell into bed and fell asleep.

I woke up rested and ready to go. I even had that bright-eyed look which was not normal for me in the morning. There was only problem: it was two in the morning.

I stared at the clock in frustration, then I ripped off my suit and put on my gym clothes, grumbling about the "stupid time difference." After a good run, I was able to fall asleep again and wake up at better time. This time, however, I was neither bright-eyed nor ready to go. I felt like shit.

Fucking time zones.

"Oh, sir. You no look so good."

I nodded at Lee and fell into the backseat, exhausted. The initial meeting had gone fine; I was just tired... and sore... and did I mention tired?

"I recommend you get Chinese massage. It help; I promise."

I raised an eyebrow, thinking he was going to send me to his sisters or something.

"There is an upscale spa not one block from your hotel. They specialize in business travelers."

That didn't sound too shady. "What's the name?"

" 痛苦 "

"Uh huh, and what does that mean?"

"Pain," he replied simply, and left it at that.

"So you're saying I should go to a massage place that is named 'pain' to get rid of my pain?" I asked dubiously.

"Of course. They make all the pain go away."

I chuckled and shook my head, thinking this was going to be a crazy three weeks.

**~I~I~I~**

I lasted another forty-eight hours before I caved and walked to the massage place. My body was still sore and stiff from the flight, and I was so tense it wasn't even funny. It wasn't far, only taking me five minutes to get there. I walked in the door and was greeted by a thick fog of incense. The smell wasn't too strong, but I could barely see the walls.

"Welcome," a small voice said before its owner walked out from behind a screen. She motioned for me to follow her, and without a word, walked through the opening behind the screen. The hallway was long and lined with doors. It was weird but I could have sworn the ceiling in hallway was getting shorter.

She stopped suddenly and opened a door. "This way, Sir." She gestured, smiling. "Mia be with you shortly."

"Thank you," I replied, but she was gone by the time I turned.

_Huh, weird._

I started to unbutton my shirt, when the door swung open hitting me in the back.

"Unf!"

"Oh! I so sorry." A small girl with her head down placed a tray on the table next to the massage bed. She looked up for a second and then dropped her head again. "Tea," she explained, pointing to the tray. "It relax you." And then she darted from the room.

Letting out a deep breath, I finished unbuttoning my shirt and removing my trousers.

I walked over to the massage table, grabbed the towel, and wrapped it around my waist. I eyed the tea and decided to smell it before drinking it. I was more of a coffee man so tea was never my first choice.

The smell wasn't too bad, but I couldn't place what it was. Slowly I took a sip, ready to spit it out if it was disgusting.

_Huh, not too bad._

When I had finished the tea, I lay down on the table and covered myself with the towel, trying to relax.

"You relaxed?" A woman suddenly appeared out of nowhere, and although it's not manly to scream, I almost did.

"Whoa! What the hell? Where did you come from?"

"The door, silly man." The older lady replied.

Come to think of it, the more I looked at her, the more disappointed I became. How the hell was she going to massage me without breaking one of her bony fingers?

"So, um... would you like me on my back or front?"

_Shit, Emmett, that just sounded wrong._

"Your back. I just doing acupuncture," she smiled brightly.

"Acupuncture?" I squeaked.

"Yes, yes." She waved her hand dismissively. "It help you relax more for massage."

I lay there, trying to decide whether to stay or throw my dignity to the wind, grab my clothes, and run like hell back to my hotel.

Who cared if I was running a block naked? Needles scared the shit out of me.

"Okay, deep breath." The woman looked at me and frowned. "You big man. No need to be scared. Relax."

I drew in several deep breaths and was somewhat relaxed, until I saw her coming at my face with a needle.

I did the only thing a man could do in this situation – I held my breath and closed my eyes as tight as I could.

The poke never came. Instead I opened one eye, and then the other. The old woman had her hands on her hips and was shaking her head. "You ridiculous."

"No," I retorted, slightly angry. "I'm not ridiculous, I'm scared of needles."

"Pssh." She waved the needle in her hand. "This nothing. I guarantee you see bigger needle one day, scare you more."

Sighing, I closed my eyes again. "Alright."

The first poke was not as bad as I thought it would be.

I barely felt it at all.

After she was done, I thanked her. She smiled and told me the masseuse would be in shortly.

I let out a deep breath… I had survived.

I never thought I would voluntarily allow myself to be poked with dozens of needles. I chalked it up to one of those things you do in strange countries, like buying really ugly shirts or palm leaf hats from a beach vendor for fifty dollars.

I shuddered at that memory. The guy just wouldn't take no for an answer and I caved, much to amusement of Jasper and Edward.

The door opened again, and the tiniest woman I'd ever seen came walking through the door. She greeted me but I couldn't speak.

_What the hell? How was she supposed to massage me? Was she going to stand on my back and dance?_

Irritated and disappointed, I closed my eyes and tried to relax.

"This your first Chinese massage?" the tiny woman asked.

"Mhmm," I mumbled into the table.

"Ooohh, relax. I try not hurt you."

Even though she couldn't see my face, I raised my eyebrow anyway.

_Riggghht._

At first I barely felt anything. Her hands moved up and down my body, gently kneading the muscle. Then she told me to take a deep breath, and then... the pain started.

I squirmed and tried my hardest to hold still, but fucking hell! It hurt.

"Hold still. You make it worse."

"I'm trying! I swear it feels like you're massaging under my ribs."

"Oh, you survive. No whine, it bad for chi."

"My chi is crying right now, cuz…" She suddenly dug in extra hard, and I cried out. "You're beating the shit out it!"

After a half hour of more torture she finally left.

I laid on the table, unsure I could still walk after that. I lifted my arm. _Huh it still works_. Then I tried my leg.

Sliding off the table, I was pleasantly surprised at how good I felt. For all the pain I had endured over the past two hours, I felt pretty damn good.

I got dressed and made my way back to the front to pay my bill. I wanted to leave the woman a hefty tip for putting up with my sorry ass.

The lady who had greeted me was at the front and she ran my card. I signed my receipt and left a tip, thanking her again. When I turned around, I saw the tiny woman.

"Thank you," I said sincerely.

She held up her hand and waved. "You welcome."

I left the place feeling better than when I had gone in. Most of the soreness was gone and walking wasn't as painful as it had been.

All in all, I felt pretty damn good.

Though I swore to myself I would _not_ tell my friends how I had nearly choked seeing the size of that tiny woman's hands. And the needles.

**~I~I~I~**

The three weeks had flown by, and I felt the trip had been a success. I even managed to speak some Chinese without embarrassing myself. I had the night to myself and wanted to pick up some souvenirs for my buddies back home. The hotel had recommended a street fair not too far away which sold unusual trinkets.

Lee picked me up and dropped me off at a large gate at the entrance to the fair. He told me he'd give me a couple of hours before returning to pick me up.

I walked by some of the weirdest things I'd ever seen. The first part was an open air meat market. Don't get me wrong, I love meat as much as the next guy, but to see it hung there with the air and flies and… My stomach flipped just thinking about what was growing on it.

There were bugs skewered on shish kabobs… I snapped a picture with my phone, knowing the guys would never believe me when I told them they ate smoked beetles.

Jasper's present was easy. I got him a set of Chi balls, knowing he'd enjoy them not only for the history, but the calming effect. Edward, however, proved more difficult. The guy had everything, so buying something that wouldn't just become paperweight shit was hard.

I was about to give up and head back to wait for Lee, when an old woman pointed at me and waved me over to her table.

"You," she said. "Come here. I have just thing you looking for."

_Oh really?_

When I neared the table, I took my previous remarks back. Did I say old? From the depth of the lines on her face I'd say she was a runaway exhibit from the Beijing museum.

"And just what am I looking for?" I challenged.

"Herbs, of course. I have best in Beijing."

She pointed to the hundreds of bags which lined the table. Each bag had an animal character on the front.

"I am looking for something for a friend of mine," I admitted.

"Good, good. Tell me about him. He big man too?"

Chuckling I shook my head. "No, but he'd like to be. Do you have something that could help him?"

"Yes! Yes, this." She grabbed a bag with a snake on the front. "It make him big and strong. You see."

I took it from her and looked at the snake. "What is this?"

"It the _python_. Like I said, it make him big and strong. Work for hours."

Edward had recently started working out, so what could it hurt? If anything, it would give him a laugh.

"I'll take it!" I handed her the money and thanked her. She had an eerie smile when I walked away. It wouldn't be until much later that I would discover why.

**~I~I~I~**

_Two weeks later, Seattle Washington_

"Hey, Emmett." Jasper stood outside my bedroom door. "Have you seen Edward?"

"Not since he left for his workout, why?"

"Oh. No reason, I just needed to run some numbers by him."

A loud crash came from the other end of the house, and we took off in the direction of the noise.

The door to the bathroom was locked, and whoever was in there was moaning in pain.

I pounded on the door. "Edward, man, you in there?"

"Emmett!" He shouted angrily. "What the hell did you give me?"


	23. One Shot by IaMurPoison

**Penname**:iAMurPoison

**Story Name**: Sleeping with a Cullen

**Rating**: M

**Pairing**: Bella, Emmett, Rosalie

**Summary**: What happens when Bella finds out what the Cullen's like to do in their spare time?

As I roll off Edward, I take an unnecessary breath. We've been having sex for hours, yet it only felt like minutes with my new vampire body. If I knew how amazing this new life was I would have forced my hand in having Edward make me into a vampire sooner.

"That was great, Bella." Edward says as he props himself up on an elbow. He brushes a piece of hair out of my eyes with his magic fingers. I turn and face him. "You're welcome." I smiled softly.

Suddenly Edward chuckles. I look at him and slowly smile, knowing someone told him something through a thought. He rolls his eyes and looks at me.

"So you know someone has plans for you."

Instantly I thought of Alice and shopping and grunt. He laughs and kisses me on my cheek getting out of bed leaving me with the sight of his beautiful round, pert ass as he walks towards our bathroom.

I sigh and roll out of bed slowly pulling my clothes on as I walked towards the door. I make my way downstairs. I sit down on the couch pulling my worn copy of _Withering Heights_ out of the cushion. Just as I was about to start reading Emmett came storming into the room with a huge grin on his face. "Hey little B," He says as he plops himself down beside me. "Reading that book again I see." He laughs. I give him a shove that actually made him move thanks to my now vampire strength.

"I happen to love this book, Emmett. Just because I am now immortal doesn't mean my taste in literature has changed." He just rolls his eyes and just kept staring at me.

I look back up at him with a questioning look on my face. "What?" I say. He put his fingers under my chin and gives me a quick kiss on the lips. "You should go take a shower." Was all he said before getting up and walking out the door. More confused than ever I slowly made my way upstairs to my room. Edward was already gone leaving me a note on our bed that was freshly made.

_Dear Isabella,_

_I know you won't completely understand what's about to happen, but I love you more than ever. Don't worry about me, just enjoy everything. Go with the flow. No matter what happens I love you as I know you love me._

_Edward_

The note left me more confused that anything so I just shrug it off and went and took my shower.

Getting out of the shower I heard a loud moan and laugh. Rosalie and Emmett's sex was the most vocal. I remember the first time hearing them. Rose was telling Emmett to _"Spank her harder"_and from the sound of it, he did.

As I was finishing getting dressed Rose let out a loud shout. "Jasper!" I stop immediately.

_Jasper? What the fuck?_

I listen closer and could hear the grunts and moans coming from both Rose and Jasper. This broke my heart. I thought back, but I didn't see any of the signs that these two had anything going on between them. In my eyes they both were truly in love with their mate.

Now knowing this I knew I had to tell Emmett and Alice because I knew if Edward was cheating on me I'd expect them to tell me. I knew this would break their hearts, and who knows how this will affect the whole Cullen clan.

I start walking out of my room with all of this running through my mind I didn't see Emmett right in front of me before I actually ran into him. As my stone body collides with his I look up, His eyes held a heat that I've never seen before. He looks down at me and instantly I feel like prey. He licks his lips giving me butterflies. He tucks a piece of wayward hair behind my ear leaving his hand on my jaw. He leans down and I know before it happens that he's going to kiss me. The bad thing is no warning bells are going off. No thoughts of Edward, nothing. My only thought was I know his lips are going to feel incredible against mine.

Right before our lips met Rosalie let out a really loud moan, bringing me back to the present. I let out a breath and look into Emmett's eyes expecting to see heart break.

But I didn't. He is just smiling and still looking at me like I was something to eat. "So you don't even care about Rosalie and Jasper?" I say stunned. He takes my hand and leads me towards a guest room. We both sit on the bed together and he runs his fingers through mine. "I guess, Edward didn't inform you of our little arrangement." I give him a '_what the fuck are you talking about'_look and he laughs. "Guess not. Well after so many years of all of us being together you start to wonder about things. It's hard not to think of everyone in this house in some kind of sexual way when you hear everything that goes on."He paused. I give him a nod to continue. "So once every so often we go off with someone else for awhile. Like right now how Rose is with Jasper."

"Ok, I understand, but don't you get jealous especially since you can hear them?" I ask.

"No, not really, I mean I know she loves me and that nothing will come between us so I'm not worried about someone stealing her away and normally while she's with someone else so am I."

Instantly I realize what Emmett was trying to say to me. He wants me. I grow warm and I know if I was still human I'd be blushing. He lifts my face up so he could look me in the eyes. "Is that ok Bella?"

Was it ok? I have no clue. Have I thought about Emmett or rather anyone besides Edward in a sexual way? Now that I think about it, yes. Like he said it's hard not to when you hear everything that happens in this house. "Has Edward had sex with anyone?" I knew I needed to know because he told me I was his first; I only expected to be the only.

"Edward hasn't actually joined in, but he's watched on occasion. He said he wasn't going to join in until you were alright with it."

"So where is he now?" I ask because I haven't seen him since he got in the shower.

Emmett gave me a sweet kiss on the lips. "He's out with Alice. He knew you wouldn't feel comfortable with doing this if he was in hearing range." I let out a sigh of relief and Emmett smiles.

"This is going to happen then?" He asks. I nod my head and smile.

Emmett took my lips by force making me moan. He nibbles on my bottom lip then licking it asking for permission to enter. I open up and met him with vigor. Emmett makes his way down my neck with wet, open mouth kisses. He gets down to my collar bone and gave it a bite making me yelp. "I've been waiting for this for so long Bella." He said as he kept making his way down as he pushes me down on the mattress and pulls up my shirt throwing it behind him. Noticing I'm not wearing a bra he growls and palms both my boobs in his hands making my nipples grow hard. "Ever since you and Edward started sleeping together I've been waiting for my time with you." He said between licks and kisses around my breast making his way to my nipple. Once his lips wrap around it I let out an extremely loud moan arching my back off the bed. He wraps his arms around my body bringing me closer to him.

"Shirt off Emmett!" I shout trying to pull it over his head. Before I even realize it he was pressing against me bare chest to chest. I ran my hands up his back as he nibble on my neck. "You taste so good Bella." He said into my skin. "I could taste you all day." He makes his way down my chest and starts to unbutton my pants. "I need these off." He huffs as he pushes them down my legs leaving me nothing but my panties.

He sat back on his legs taking all of me in with his eyes. "You are so beautiful." He whispers so low I knew if I wasn't a vampire I wouldn't have heard it. He rubs up my left leg with his huge hand till he meets my center. Taking one finger he lightly touches the outside of my panties in circles driving me insane. "Emmett, don't play with me." I growl and push myself down trying to find more friction.

He smiles at me and pulls off my panties to slow for my liking. Once they were finally gone his fingers went back to my center just touching the outside. "You feel like silk, Bella, so beautiful." He lies down on his stomach between my legs and watches himself touch me. He finally split my lips with his fingers letting all my juices cover him. "You're so wet, and you smell delicious. I want to take a lick." Before my thoughts even process what he said his lips met mine enticing a moan of out me. My hand instantly went to his curls. Looking down I watch him as he kisses my lips. His eyes watch me as I watch him devour me turning me on even more. I knew I wasn't going to last long. He pulls his face away and pulls apart my lips. He sticks out his huge tongue and licks me from bottom to top. My head falling back and I make noses that mean nothing, but the pleasure is too much not to. Emmett keeps devouring me with vigor. His hands are holding my hips down as his head bobs between my legs giving me immense pleasure. "Oh my God, Emmett, I'm going to cum." I say as I push my fingers through his hair again. I felt him smile against my lips making me moan louder. "Do it, Bella, cum for me, all over my face." Those words push me over the edge and my orgasm hits me like a freight train. My back arches off the bed and I scream his name. I feel my juices flow out of me with each clench of my inner muscles. He stays down there and finish licking me clean, riding out my orgasm. Once done he crawls up me and presses his mouth to mine. I open my lips and let him in. I can taste myself on his tongue.

He sits back up with a start and pulls his jeans off in record time. His huge member springs out to greet me and my hands take hold. Emmett lets out a hiss. I look into his eyes as I lick the moisture off the head of his cock. His fingers find my hair and tangle themselves in. I open my mouth to take in as much as him I can. Even with my body so stone like, it still hurts to have my jaw almost unhinge because he has so much girth. I lick my tongue around him and push him far enough into my mouth he hits the back of my throat. I suck as hard as I can as I pull him out, redoing the whole process. "Baby that feels amazing." He grunts as I slam him back into my throat. I hum in response and he shivers. "If you keep that up I'm going to lose my load in your mouth." I smile and suck him down harder as I reached my hand under and massaged his balls. He fists my hair and shouts my name. Hot squirts of his seed drench the back of my throat before I swallow it all down. I suck him clean and let go of it with an audible 'pop'. As I look up I notice Emmett's huge smile. "So was that as good for you as it was for me?" I tease as I wipe my mouth.

"Damn, Bella, you could kill a man with that mouth. So you know I'll be coming back for more of that often." He kisses my lips softly before laying down next to be on the bed. I turn and face him pushing a piece of hair off his forehead. "I hope you like what's next." He whispers into my ear.

A knock on the door pulls me from my next statement and Emmett says come in. Rosalie walks in wearing nothing but a pair of scarlet red lace panties and bra. I look at her and then to Emmett. I sit up pulling the sheet with me. "I'm sorry; I'll just get out of the way for you two." I say as I pull myself from the bed. A hand grabs my wrist before I can fully pull myself away. I look back and he has a smile on his face. "Rose is here for you, not me, Bella." He pulls me back on the bed and Rose walks to the side of the bed right next to me. "From what I heard you can suck dick pretty good. Well, let's see how good you can eat some pussy."

She straddles my waist and pulls the sheet down to my navel. "You have gorgeous tits." She took a manicured nail and traces my nipple making them peak. She bent down and licked the peak, then sucking it into her mouth all while watching my face. Her blond hair spilled over making a curtain, hiding her from my eyes. I push it back so I could see again and she smiles. I hear a grunt next to us making me break the stare I had with Rosalie. Looking over I give a smile. Emmett was sitting on the bed next to use with his mouth hanging half open. I notice his member was stick straight again and that made me giggle. "You like what you see?" I ask him. His eyes went from Rose to me and he smiles. "Yes I do." She let go of my breast and made her way towards my lips. Once our lips met I let out a moan. Her lips are so soft and I know I'm going to enjoy this. I lick her bottom lip and she opens up for me. Our tongues meet and slide together. She tastes like chocolate and I can't get enough. I grab her hair and start pulling her to the side so I can get on top. Once I straddle her I reach down and unclasp her bra. Lucky for me it was in the front. I pull her breasts out and used my fingers to get to know them. Her nipples were already hard and seeing them made me want to take them both in my mouth.

I kiss her lips lightly and make my way down her neck towards her breast. Once I make it I push her tit into my mouth and suck. I lick my way around her peak as I feel her squirm under me. I make my way to the next one and do the same thing. I kiss my way down her flat stomach and when I reach her hip bones I lick them. I sit up and bend her legs so I can pull her panties off. I throw them at Emmett and give him a wink. I kiss and lick down her leg until I got to her center. I could see her wetness running down towards her ass. Using my finger I touch her bundle of nerves making her moan in satisfaction. Pushing her legs apart I dove in licking up all the mess she made. I couldn't place the taste of her juices, but they were delicious. I push my fingers inside her feeling her heat engulf me. Her juices were everywhere. As I work my mouth on her pussy I felt hands on my ass. I look back and seen Emmett behind me asking for permission to play too. I give him a smile and went back to work on Rose. I felt his fingers start spreading me apart and pushing their way inside me. The intrusion felt so good I moan into her. He worked his fingers in and out making me extremely wet. His fingers left but then I feel the head of his cock on my pussy lips, I shuddered. I continued pumping my fingers in and out of Rose.

As Emmett rammed himself fully into me, I screamed. I turn around to watch him pump himself in and out of me. His eyes are close and his mouth is hanging open. I flex myself around him making him moan my name and then he gave me a spank. As he went to work on me I focus on Rose. I work my fingers feverishly in her bending them to hit her spot. She is a withering mess and I love it. Her juices are dripping down my chin as I lick and nibble on her clit. She grabs my hair and I lift my eyes to watch her. She was watching me as I eat her out and Emmett fucked me from behind. I slid my way down her with my tongue and plunged it into her, fucking her with it. "Fuck, Bella I'm gonna…ugh!" Rose arches her back off the bed and I feel her pulsate on my tongue. Her juices run down my throat and I drink them like they are the sweet nectar of life.

Emmett starts grunting behind me, his pumping becoming hard, fast and erratic. "Fuck, Bell, I need you to cum for me baby." He reaches around and pinches my clit sending me over the edge. "Yes, yes!" he yells as he spills his seed inside me.

He pulls out and lies down on the bed next to me and Rose. "That was fucking amazing." He says with a shit eating grin.

"Yes, Bella, you sure do know how to eat the shit out of some pussy. Have you done that before?" She asks.

"Um no, you were my first." I laugh, "Glad you liked it."

"So this is totally happening again." Emmett states as he gets off the bed and starts picking up his clothing. Rose did the same. They both gave me a kiss and head out the door. I got my clothing and made my way back to my bedroom taking yet another shower.

My mind was still going over everything that happened when a knock sounds on the bathroom door. "Come in."

Edward walks into the bathroom with a huge grin on his face. "So how was your evening, Love?"

I got out of the shower and head to bed with Edward filling him in on what happened today. He wasn't mad at all, actually he seems pretty excited.

"Well, I'm glad you enjoyed your day so much, Isabella. Now I have a treat for you." He whispers in my ear. Our bedroom door opens and Jasper was standing there in a pair of tightie-whiteys and cowboy boots.

_He sure does know how to work a pair of tightie-whiteys._

My jaw falls open and Edward chuckles. "I hope you don't mind, me and Jasper wanted a turn with you."

Quickly regaining my composer, I smile smugly. "I don't mind at all."


	24. A Drabble from Oscar519

**Pen name: **Oscar519**  
Pairing: **Emmett/Rosalie**  
Rating: **T**  
Twilight 25 Entry – Prompt: **Scattered

Soft light filtered through the prisms of the enormous chandeliers adorning the high ceiling, casting colorful beams around the ballroom. The gala was winding down but the sounds of happy, if not slightly drunken, chatter and laughter still filled the room.

Emmett sat on the grand staircase, head in his hands. He wished he was still a part of the happy chatter, hearing Rosalie's laughter by his side. He wished he was off enjoying the elaborate celebration he had planned for the two of them later that night. Instead, he sat on that staircase alone, still as a statue, trying to keep himself under control. He just sat there.

Destroyed.

o§o§o

The annual McCarty Muscular Dystrophy Gala was somewhat of a tradition for Rosalie and Emmett. It had been their first date four years ago and they attended every year.

She emerged from the house wearing a royal blue Nicole Miller gown, but all Emmett could see was how the color looked against her skin and how perfectly it accentuated her body. She was breathtaking. Of course, to him, she was always breathtaking – even when covered in engine grease.

"You look amazing, baby," he breathed, before kissing her softly. This was their four-year anniversary, and Emmett was bound and determined to make it perfect for her. Taking her hand he pulled her toward the black, stretch limousine he rented for the night.

"Em, what is this? We usually take your Nav."

"I know. I just felt like doing something different tonight," he said, flashing his dimples at her as he helped her climb into the vehicle.

The limo slowly made its way toward The Peabody hotel in downtown Memphis, while Rosalie and Emmett sipped on Capri Suns and Chex Mix. They rarely did anything that could be considered normal and this was another one of their relatively odd traditions. The first year they attended the gala Emmett decided at the last second that he needed to have drinks and snacks available in his SUV on the drive over. So he ran into a Walgreens on his way to pick her up and grabbed the first items he saw that fit the bill. Rosalie had teased him mercilessly about his need to feed her and his choices, but he still enjoyed every second of her ribbing. The next year he made it a point to have the exact same snacks in the car on their drive, and the year after that. There was no way he would break with tradition, especially now.

o§o§o

"Emmett? Sweetheart, are you okay?" He could hear the concern in his mother's voice, but he also heard the note of triumph. She had never liked Rosalie, and she did an abysmal job of hiding it, though she never really tried all that hard.

He didn't respond to her. He couldn't form words, and even if he could he wasn't entirely sure he would have been able to control what he said. Instead, he continued to sit, even as he felt himself begin to shake. Eyes wide, staring at the horrendous navy and gold paisley carpet, all he could do was relive the worst moment of his life on repeat.

They had been at the gala for two hours and they were having a fantastic time mingling, even if they did get trapped into one of the most boring conversations they had ever been forced to endure when one of the board members cornered them. As soon as they escaped Emmett led Rosalie onto the dance floor as the first song they ever danced to in that very same ballroom started.

"Did you do this?" Rosalie asked with a growing smile.

Emmett attempted to look overly innocent as he responded, "Do what?"

"Who knew you were so corny," she said, laughing.

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about." As she laughed harder he planted a lingering kiss on her cheek, effectively distracting her as he removed his left hand from her hip and rooted around in his pants pocket, wrapping his hand around the small box.

He looked into her eyes, seeing all the happiness and love he felt reflected back at him. After four years together he had no doubts. He knew he was meant to love Rosalie Hale for the rest of his life. They were perfect together.

Apparently, Rosalie didn't feel the same way.

He released her and before she could utter a protest Emmett had kneeled down in front of her. Her eyes grew wide and the joy was at once replaced by panic and fear. He mistakenly believed it was because he was doing this in the middle of ballroom full of people.

"Okay, I know this is probably the most public place I could have done this and that you don't need some big production, but I know that this is right. We had our first date in this room. The first time we ever talked about forever was in this room. It's only appropriate that we start our forever in this room." He opened the box, revealing a simple platinum ring with a round diamond setting.

"I adore you, Rosalie. I can't imagine my life without getting slapped upside the head everyday or the sarcasm or any of the thousands of things that make you, you. The woman I will always love. Please, be my wife?"

It was only once he finished that he noticed the look on her face didn't change. It had fallen even further and the tears that streamed down her face weren't from happiness. He felt himself start to splinter.

Swallowing the fear that was start to spiral out of control he asked, "Rose? Baby, what's wrong?" Even before he could finish the question she was shaking her head.

"I–I can't . . . . Please don't hate me," she whispered shakily, trying to hold back sobs, before she bolted from the ballroom, leaving Emmett on one knee, ring in hand.

Taking a part of him with her as she fled.


	25. One Shot from Shalu

**Pen name:**shalu

**Rating:**M

**Pairing:**Emmett & Rosalie

**Title**: Black Friday

**Summary:**Emmett gets dragged to the mall on Black Friday. Hmmm ... let's see what he gets ;) AH/AU.

**AN:** Thanks to Mal & MTK for prereading my slop. I 3 u both super-squeezy hard.

**BLACK FRIDAY**

What the fuck am I doing in a _mall_ on Black Friday? I mean it's pre-ass o'clock in the morning and I'm at a _MALL_. I'm not even hungry yet—in fact, I think I can still feel Bella's stuffing sitting like a lead brick in my gut. _Damn, Edward; she's great and all, but girl needs to check that recipe._

I don't know how she does it, but my dwarf of a half-sister convinced me that I needed to "keep her company" while she shopped. I'd been too preoccupied to remember that it really meant "hold my bags." I know I'm a big guy, and I can carry a lot of shit at once, but does that mean I want to? Or that I don't get tired of it?

That adorable twerp is really lucky I have the patience of a saint. Okay, maybe that's a stretch, but it takes a lot to piss me off. Still, she better appreciate me. And by appreciate me, I mean buy me some pretty fucking awesome shit for Christmas. I'm not a material guy, but she owes me for this. I think I need the new Guitar Hero or Rock Band or something. Maybe just an entirely new gaming system. They probably have them for fifty bucks around here somewhere. Alice is great at sniffing out deals.

I sigh, leaning back on the bench, next to a few other guys, probably husbands, gathering by the incredibly irritated looks on their faces. Except that dude on the scooter—I'm pretty sure he's asleep.

I think we all just got snowed. Those of us who're awake share a silent nod in solidarity. It's like a fist-bump, but without having to move.

"Excuse me, do you have the time?"

My eyes float up to meet the warm brown eyes of ..._hot damn_.

"Hey, Rosalie." I can't help how quiet the words are, but I'm a little shocked to see her. I haven't seen this girl since she fell off the bleachers my senior year in high school. She wore a back brace at the time—I think it was for a curve in her spine, and Royce King used to tease her mercilessly about it. At the homecoming assembly, she was walking up the steps, and he put his foot to the metal spine and shoved her over the side. I swear to God, I was sure the fall would kill her.

It didn't, but I nearly killed him. Something took hold of me and propelled me across the aisle, intent on nothing but putting him in a world of hurt. It took four guys and a kick to the 'nads to get me to stop punching him. Royce was hospitalized. I was lucky the Kings didn't decide to press charges, as I was already eighteen. I was, however, suspended for two weeks. I still say it was worth it.

Luckily, Rosalie was okay, but she was out of school for the remainder of the year. I never saw her again after that.

I remember thinking she looked like a blonde-haired Natalie Wood: sinfully gorgeous and powerful, but a barely masked vulnerability managed to shine through if you really looked. _What? My mom liked to watch old movies, so I ended up ... Shut up._

Rosalie was usually so withdrawn, quiet—not to mention wicked smart, however, it was almost impossible to approach her. Looking at her now, I wondered if she was an actress or a model; she was radiant. _And probably married. There goes my shot to get some kind of Black Friday deal out of this shopping trip._

Her eyes snap to mine as recognition washes over her. "Oh, um, Emmett? Emmett McCarty, yeah?" The words are hesitant, and it sounds like she's not sure whether she's pleasantly surprised, or just annoyed.

I nod, standing and setting the four bags Alice has already amassed on my seat. "Yep," I try to smile. I can't really remember if I was ever a dick to her or not. I didn't make a habit of it, but I had my asshole moments. Those were usually reserved for other guys, though. Or my dad. Never girls.

A tight smile stretches her lips as she appraises me. "Wow. Yeah, so, um, how are you?"

_Oh, hell no. This is too painful. No bullshit smalltalk._

"Was I an asshole to you? I must've started blocking shit out from high school, so I apologize because I can't remember," I kinda blurt, eager to cut past the crap.

I've clearly taken her by surprise (again?), but I can't tell if I've offended her or not. She sputters for a moment before responding quietly, "No, no, you were ... you were usually very kind, actually."

"Really? Awesome." _Crap. I sound like a moron._ "I mean, I'm glad. I ... I always wanted to talk to you, but ... I don't know. I —"

"It's fine, Emmett," she laughs a little, before looking around a little awkwardly. The silence between us grows until I recall she was asking for the time.

"OH! The time ... it's, uh," I pause to dig my phone out of my pocket and press the button so it lights up. "It's —_fucking hell_— only seven-fifteen."

A loud snort erupts from her, and she covers her mouth with a cashmere-gloved hand. "What are you doing here, then?"

"My sister, the mini-terror," I tell her, as if that's enough of an explanation.

Her eyebrows raise, telling me it wasn't.

"Alice? I don't know if you remember her—"

"She's a little difficult to forget," she assures me, smiling a little wider.

I laugh lightly. "Yeah, well, I think she caught me in a moment of pure stupefication because she dragged my ass here to act as her carryall."

"How sweet," she muses.

"Oh, yeah," I say, rolling my eyes good-naturedly, "she's a real peach at four in the morning."

Rosalie shakes her head. "No, I meant you."

When her big brown eyes catch mine, I freeze, caught in their warm, soulful gaze. I'm pretty sure my mouth hangs open. I think this is what the saps (like Edward, for example) refer to as "the lightning bolt."

"Find something you like, Em?" I hear my evil sister's Chirpy-McChipperson voice peep from behind me.

I blink a few times, spinning to give her a nostril-flaring glare. Little bitch giggles at me.

"Rosalie Hale, right?" Alice fluidly steps around me, blatantly ignoring my warning. "It's so nice to see you! What are you shopping for today? Have you found any deals? I was just at Macy's and got three lingerie sets for $30! That's thong, panties, bra, _and_ garters!"

_She's doing this on purpose. I can feel the vomit rising up my throat, burning like lava._

"I swear to God, Rainbow Sprite, I will not tell you again how much I would NEVER like to hear about my sister and lingerie. EVER. Please," I beg, and notice Rosalie smirking, holding back a laugh.

"Whatever," she sighs, waving me off. "So you don't want to hear about the toys I got two-for-one at Good Vibrations?"

I bite my lips, just in case actual vomit does try to erupt. They're both full-on laughing now, so I give up, sitting back down in my seat. On top of Alice's bags.

"YOU'RE CRUSHING MY STUFF!" Alice squeals.

"You've crushed my will to live, Tiny!"

"Impossible," she sing-songs, turning back to Rosalie. "Anyway, would you like to join us for breakfast? I'm famished, and I'm sure Em would like this opportunity to —"

"Alice!" I shout, unintentionally echoing a boom throughout the mall. I look around sheepishly, seeing my "brothers-in-arms" violently jerk awake and give me dirty looks. _Sorry, dudes. My bad._

"—take all my bags to the car," she finishes, completely amused. "I haven't the faintest idea of what you think I was going to say."

My face flames red. _Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, I have lost it. I need to sleep._ "Whatever," I reply, shaking my head, before peeking back up to look at Rosalie.

She's incandescent and smiling, and I want to know why. "I can't," she says finally, and my heart drops to my feet. "I have to pick up my —"

"Husband," I provide, immediately wishing I had some duct tape to slap over my enormous cakehole.

"No!" she near-yells, almost seeming offended. She softens quickly and looks almost shyly at me. "That is, uh, no. I'm not married. I was going to say my mother. She's flying in from Phoenix in a couple hours, so I have to head to the airport. I would love to ... catch up, though."

I can feel Alice gearing up to embarrass me, or say something out of turn (it's her basic nature), so I literally paw her face, covering her mouth with my hand.

"Maybe I could call you later," I suggest, trying to be gentler in my tone this time. "Or you could call me, if you want."

_Fumbling idiot._

She smiles. And it's breathtaking. "Yes," she nods vigorously. "I'd like that."

Alice is squirming, trying to extricate her face from my grasp, but I'm not letting go. I retrieve my phone from my pocket with my free hand and offer it to Rosalie. She takes it, dials her number, calling her own phone that starts to ring in her pocket.

"There," she says, handing mine back. "Until later."

I smile and nod. "Later, then."

She begins to back away slowly, but then rushes forward, her hands gripping my shoulders as she plants a kiss on my cheek. Whispering in my ear, she sounds almost like she wants to cry. "Thank you ... for caring. I never got to tell you, but thank you."

Whirling, she breaks into a light run toward the other end of the hall. I watch her until her form disappears into the crowd. Alice has wriggled out of my claw-hold and punches me in the kidney.

"Dammit, Oompa! If I have blood in my piss, I'm telling Mom!" _Fuck, I can't believe I just said that. How old am I?_

The inclusion of a "mom-threat" has neutralized any anger at the "Oompa Loompa" remark, and she dissolves into laughter. "Oh, Paul," she teases back (_Yeah, she means Paul Bunyan_), "you are so cute when you're in love. Ya know? I don't think I've seen that level of stupid on your face before."

Eying her, I try to remember that I _do_ love my sister. "I'm not ... it's just ..." I huff, realizing it's useless to try and justify myself. I've been struck dumb by this woman, and I just have to own up to it. "I'm interested, okay?"

"_Pffft_." She rolls her eyes dramatically. "She's _it_. That was totally love at first sight. I've just never seen it in person."

"Whatever, Ali. It's not really first sight, anyway." Rosalie is on parade in the forefront of my mind, and I admit, I may have stared of into space until Alice flicks me with her middle finger right between my eyes. "What? Why are you—"

"Are you done mooning over her yet? 'Cause I am gonna start eating small children if we don't get some breakfast." Pointing to her (crushed) bags, she raises her eyebrows expectantly. I wrap my fingers around the handles and load up my arms with her latest batch.

"Let's go, Gollum," I sigh, a bright smile haunting me as we head toward the exit.

Once we get to the car (right up front — Alice made us get here so early, we beat some of the employees), I pile all her loot into the back and walk around to the driver's side door. Before I get in, I feel my phone buzz in my pocket. Hope flares in my chest that it is who I think it is, and I rush to read the message.

**I never shop Black Friday. I'm glad I did. Talk later?**

My heart was trying to bust through my ribcage as I got in the car and fastened the seatbelt. "Alice?"

"Mmmhmmm," she replies, as if she already knew what I'd say.

I turn to her and tell her honestly, "Thanks for waking me up at the crack of yesterday and making me go shopping with you."

She smiles, gleefully. "You're welcome. This is why you must trust me, young Jedi."

I roll my eyes, groaning, and rev the gas, wishing the car warm. Looking down at the phone still in my hand, I thumb out a quick reply.

**Defnitly. Blk Fri might just b my new fav holiday.**


	26. One Shot by Adair

**Penname: **Adair7  
**Title: **The Tribe  
**Genre:** AH  
**Rating: **R  
**Pairing:** Em/Rose  
**Summary:** In a heartless world of darkness and chaos, the tribes are the only way to survive. Emmett would die before allowing harm to come to his tribe as they struggle to adapt to life, love and trust in the new world. 

Note: Partially inspired by the song "Heartless" by Jim Sturgess. I don't own Twilight, nor do I own the Lord's Prayer. Pre-read by Unicornhime. Beta'd by DeeDreamer and Daniwerner from Project Team Beta.

**The Tribe  
**

"Emmett."

My eyes opened quickly, the light and warmth of my dream fading in the harsh cold and grey of reality. I pushed myself up into a sitting position. "What is it?"

"There's someone out there," Rosalie whispered, an edge of fear in her voice. She was crouched by the window, searching the darkness beyond through the small slit left uncovered in the lower corner. "I heard something move."

"Shit," I mumbled under my breath, standing quickly and pulling on a thermal shirt. I shoved my feet into my boots and crept soundlessly to the window. I scanned the perimeter that was visible through the window corner but couldn't discern anything through the darkness. There were no city lights anymore, and the darkness was complete, the moon's light obscured by the dark clouds that seemed to hang permanently over the sky.

Rosalie prepared to go outside while I looked, sliding on her coat and boots, securing her hair beneath a thick wool hat. She grabbed a small handgun off the shelf and handed me the shotgun that sat near it. "Should we wake the others?"

"No," I answered, keeping my voice low. "Wake Edward but leave Alice and Jasper. I don't want to alarm the whole tribe if it's nothing. It's probably a stray wolf looking for food."

She made her way through the cabin and I heard the soft murmur of voices as she woke Edward in the next room over. A minute later, they both re-entered my room. I noted Edward was already dressed, shotgun in hand. He was the only one who was still vigilant enough to sleep in his boots so he was ready to go at a second's notice. The rest of us had gotten lax, , ,and I hoped we wouldn't pay for it.

"Basic perimeter sweep," I whispered. "Rose left, Edward right, I'll take the woods."

They nodded to indicate their understanding - a motion I could barely make out in the dim light of the cabin – from a single, low burning candle at floor level. Silently, we got into position and I opened the door, allowing us to stream out into the darkness. We'd practiced this a hundred times; the motions were second nature, but tonight my heart pounded in my chest. It was probably just a wolf, but you couldn't be too cautious these days.

Rose moved to the right, keeping low to the ground, and disappeared around the corner. Edward did the same on the left, a, ,nd I moved swiftly to the woods straight ahead. I had grown skilled at walking through the dense mountain trees, knowing the moss-covered path that cushioned my footsteps and allowed me to move seamlessly through the forest, ghostly quiet. I stopped when I reached the perimeter – a length of twine strung with bells that alerted us to the presence of intruders. I started circling, my ears tuned to the sounds of night as I kept the perimeter to my right. I was only halfway around when I heard the whistle signalling that something had found something back at camp. I moved speedily back, but I kept my eyes open and didn't run. There could be others. To live alone in Dark World was suicide.

When I got back to camp, Jasper was waiting outside my door. I wasn't surprised to see him up. He was a light sleeper and the whistle would have woken him if our movements hadn't already.

"They found a girl," he said, motioning to the door of the main cabin. I nodded thanks and made my way into the room, standing tall to my full height of 6'5". I was fairly certain it was my height and athletic build that had resulted in me being elected leader of our tribe. Edward was more intelligent than me, but he preferred to work as my right-hand man and advisor while Jasper was more militarily-oriented but didn't like to be the center of attention. I was somewhere inbetween the two, so they turned to me.

"Found her by the well," Edward clarified.

I looked at the prisoner and concealed my emotions with a mask of indifference. I was surprised at what I saw before me. The girl was tiny, almost as small as Alice, and looked no more than thirteen or fourteen years old. She had been tied to the chair with thick rope, but I was fairly certain it was unnecessary. She was thin and appeared too weak to struggle, her cheeks gaunt and her eyes ringed with dark circles. She looked like she was starving and walking the dangerous line separating life from death.

"Who are you?" I asked, pulling a chair up in front of her and straddling it backward so I could rest my arms on the back. I knew the motion flexed my muscles, even through the worn material of my shirt, and displayed my strength.

"Isabella Swan," she answered. Her voice was breathy, a whisper. "Bella."

"Tribe?" I could feel the suspense of the others. If there was another tribe in the area, it could be very dangerous for us. We lived a solitary existence away from the civil wars and competitions. If tribes were moving into our territory we would have to change our ways. We would have to fight for dominance and safety.

"None."

"Please," Rosalie hissed, her voice thick with scepticism. "The only tribeless are the dead."

"I have no tribe," Bella stated slowly. No emotion registered in her voice. No fear of being called a liar, no indignation over Rosalie's anger, nothing. "I've never been part of one."

Rosalie grabbed her right hand and flipped it to show the span of wrist just below her palm. There were no markings. "Impossible."

Rosalie's own wrist showed an M with the lines crossing it diagonally, symbolizing the M3 tribe – what we called ourselves when it was just t justhe three of us, Rose, Jasper and me. We hadn't changed it when Edward and his sister, Alice, joined us a year later. Tribal tattoos were common in Dark World. They were your identity. Those without their marks were untrustworthy. They were snakes that could slither their way through tribes, claiming innocence. Most often they were executed as criminals, guilty of spying, sabotage, and murder. This girl didn't look like one of them, but that may be how she'd survived this long without marks.

"Explain," I ordered, keeping my face neutral and my voice flat and emotionless. I didn't want to show my curiosity.

"I'm starving. I was looking for a safe place and food. I found your well. I'm sorry." Her voice was trained. It remained as unemotional as mine was. The only thing that gave her away was her eyes. She looked at my face, but she wasn't looking in my eyes.

"From the start," I clarified.

She took a deep breath, the slightest shudder to it, and started. "I was born and raised in Phoenix, Arizona. My father was the chief of police there. We had a shelter beneath our house where my brother and I hid for years after D-Day. We didn't have to join the tribes because we were safe alone. Our resources ran out, so we moved west looking for something better."

I nodded once to indicate understanding. It had been the same here, messages and rumours saying life was better elsewhere. People in the north said it was better in the south, people in the east said it was better in the west. The truth was that there was the same shit everywhere. The bombs had destroyed everything in the wars. We were fucked on a global level. Even the weather had changed. In the area that used to be Washington, where we lived, it was nuclear winter. Even now, in the summer months, it was cold, the temperatures dropping well below freezing at night. In other places the sun burned constant and hot, scorching the earth and decimating all life.

"And where is your brother?" I asked. I could hear Jasper shift uneasily, and all our eyes glanced toward the window. Was he out there?

"Dead." Her voice was flat, but I could see the tears welling in her eyes. "He was killed in California. We were jumped in LA, but we didn't have money to pay them, so he was shot as punishment."

Her bottom lip quivered but no tears fell. She wouldn't cry in front of us. "I'm telling the truth. I'm alone. I'm frightened. I'm starving. I'm exhausted. If you're going to kill me, just get it over with already."

I started at her words and searched her eyes. They were bold, blazing with fire, all traces of tears gone. They were the eyes of one who had nothing left to lose, not unlike Alice and Edward when we'd rescued them and took them into the tribe.

I got up from my chair and walked toward the door where Jasper was standing guard. "Get Alice. Bring her to meet the girl."

Jasper's eyes narrowed and his face paled further, noticeable even in the dim candle light of the room. "No. She can't be involved in this. Not now."

"We need her," I said firmly but quietly so Bella couldn't hear. "She's the best reader of all of us and I can't get a grasp on this girl."

"But-"

"Now," I ordered. "She'll be safe. I promise."

Jasper exhaled loudly in exasperation, but he did as I had asked, leaving the larger room in the main cabin for the smaller one he shared with Alice. Bella stared at the floor, her face fierce as she waited for us to deliberate what we would do with her. In a few moments, Jasper returned, a small form bundled in blankets walking beside him.

"Bella, this is Alice," I explained. "Alice is unrivalled at reading people and judging character. She'll be able to tell if you're lying."

"I'm not lying to you," Bella said with a sigh of exhaustion. "I told you. I'm alone. I'm frightened. I'm hungry."

Alice crept forward, turning the chair I had sat in around the right way, and lowered herself slowly into the seat so she was facing Bella. I could see the captive girl's eyes widen as she took in Alice's small form and the large swell of her belly.

"You're pregnant?" Bella gasped in a whisper. Her eyes widened in surprise.

"It's not important," Jasper interrupted. He was fiercely protective of Alice and his child. I placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him. She was tied and wouldn't injure Alice. He didn't need to get worked up about her right now. I needed him alert.

"Yes," Alice replied with a smile, ignoring the rest of us. "Due any day now. But that's not important. What is important is finding out who you are."

Bella repeated her story to Alice. Everything was the same, without embellishment or additions to exploit emotions. She stuck to facts, which worked to her credit.

"I believe you," Alice said after a moment's thought. "I'm sorry about your brother. It must have been difficult to come here on your own."

"Yes," Bella nodded. "Everything here is so different from what I knew. My father protected us by locking us away, but he left us incredibly vulnerable. We didn't know anything about the new world."

Alice turned to me, her expression unimpressed. "Why haven't you given her any water or food? Can't you see she's starving?"

"Edward?" I didn't even have to ask. He left the main room for the kitchen, where he picked up a semi-withered apple and a bottle of water, the best we could get in the cabin at the moment, and brought it back. Rosalie had stepped forward to untie Bella, Alice's judgment making her trustworthy enough to sit without restraint. She bit into the apple the instant it was handed to her, and I felt an uncomfortable pang at the state the poor girl was in.

"How old are you?" Alice asked when Bella had finished the last of her apple.

"Eighteen. I turn nineteen in September, whenever that is."

My eyes widened in surprise. I had estimated her to be much younger. She was only six years younger than me, and I'd thought her to be at least ten years my junior. Still, the war conditions had left many children stunted in youth. The state of the world certainly wasn't conducive to growth. I knew Jasper and Alice worried for their child and the quality of life it would have when it was born. It still remained to be seen whether or not Alice would survive the pregnancy. We weren't more than children ourselves. I had only been fourteen on D-Day and I was the oldest of our group. We weren't prepared to deliver a baby, and this world wasn't safe enough for one to grow. Even a small girl as unimpressive as Bella could put an infant in mortal danger.

"What are your plans, Bella?" I asked. I watched carefully as her face registered shock, the first emotion I'd seen her truly express since we'd met.

"Plans? I don't really have any," she admitted.

"Are you joining our tribe or are you carrying on?" I clarified. Edward's eyes narrowed as he looked at me. I could tell he was worried about the sudden invitation to a complete stranger, but I trusted his sister's interpretation of her. Alice hadn't steered us wrong yet. The last time we'd considered letting someone in to the tribe, she stood firm against it. She'd been right. James had been working for a different tribe, feeding them our secrets and our location, and they had attacked us in a midnight raid. She'd also been correct when advising us to trust passers-by and the news they brought with them. She had a way of seeing into people and through them to their souls. If she trusted Bella, I would trust in Alice.

"You would let me join?" Bella asked, shaken. Her thin, bony fingers clasped the edge of the chair as if she might fall off if she let go. "Really?"

"Yes."

"Even if I have no skills," she asked, her eyes falling on my gun, "or weapons?"

"We have enough weapons," I replied. "Alright. Bella can have the spare couch in this cabin, 24 hour guard until further notice. Edward, can you take first shift?"

He nodded his agreement. "Come on, Bella. I'll show you where you'll be staying."

"I'll get her some new clothes," Alice said, holding out a hand. I helped her on to her feet. "She's about my size." Jasper stood and walked with her back to their cabin, his hand at the small of her back as they walked.

"I can't believe you're letting her stay," Rosalie said, glaring at me now that we were alone. "We don't know anything about her. We don't know if we can _trust_ her."

"Alice thinks she's trustworthy," I defended. "And we'll be on guard. I'm not going to let another situation happen like when James was here."

"Alice could be _wrong_," she replied. Her full lips pouted in a frown.

I pulled her into my arms, smiling at how little resistance she put up. Rose would act tough, but when things were uncertain, she only wanted to be held and comforted like any other girl. I kissed her forehead and smoothed her hair back with my hand. "I won't let anything happen to you, or any of us. I'll die before that happens."

"I know," she murmured in response. Her hand traced patterns onto my chest, heating my blood with her fingertips. Her hand ran lower, slipping beneath my shirts and tracing the sensitive skin just above the waist of my jeans. The flood of desire took hold, fuelled further by excess amounts of adrenaline, and touching was no longer enough.

Our movements were hurried, desperate for contact and reassurance. Removing the barrier created by our clothes, I lowered myself between her legs and sought out the warmth and connection I needed from her. I barely got myself positioned before she lifted her hips to meet mine, as impatient for my touch as I was for hers. I thrust against her eagerly and she responded in kind, wrapping herself around me tightly, pulling me closer and wanting more. It wasn't delicate and loving. It wasn't the time and place for delicacy. This was reassurance. This was fierce and rough, reminding us that we were still alive, surviving this hell and able to find solace in each other if nowhere else.

We pulled apart quickly, just before I climaxed, and cleaned ourselves off, redressing without hesitation. Moonlit caresses and luxuriating in each other's arms and bared flesh were no longer an indulgence our time and situation could afford. I pulled on my boots, regretting that I couldn't have been older before the wars began. There was so much more to sex than was allowed in our current state that I could never hope to discover until safety could be a certainty. Most guys in my situation dropped their guard for the pleasures of sex, taking risks and getting sloppy, but if anything happened to Rose it would be my fault. I could never forgive myself if anything happened to her.

I finished pulling on my clothes and kissed Rosalie lightly on the back of the neck. We talked for a while about trivial things, mostly the books we'd managed to find on our most recent scavenging trip into the closest towns. I got up out of bed and peaked out the window, noticing the glimpse of light in the horizon indicating the coming dawn. Rosalie yawned and I kissed her chastely on the forehead. "Get some sleep. I'm going to relieve Edward and take on the shift until dawn."

"Alright," she answered softly, lowering herself to the worn mattress and threadbare sheets. She kept her boots on, pulling the thick wool blanket over her clothed body.

+++

There was a soft murmur of voices, but they stopped as I approached, though I caught the faint smile that crossed Edward's lips as he stood from his chair and stepped away from Bella. I nearly said something, but kept my mouth shut. Edward rarely smiled. I'd hate to kill whatever Bella had allowed to grow within him and melt the icy shield he kept so rigid about him. He was only twenty-three years old. He was far too young to lose his ability to feel happiness.

"You should sleep," I advised him, and he nodded in agreement – a sure sign he was exhausted. He made his way to the far corner where a ragged cot and a pile of blankets comprised his bed and lay down. He tried to appear to sleep, but I knew he wouldn't allow himself any more than a light nap with a stranger so near.

"You must be tired as well," I said, addressing Bella, who was eyeing me nervously. I fought the instinct to flex my arm muscles discreetly. She didn't need to be intimidated. She was already terrified.

"Not really," she answered, looking me straight in the eye. "I usually sleep during the day. It's safer than being caught unaware at night."

I had to give her that. Her logic was fairly solid. Stragglers, loners, and snakes moved about during the day. They were solitary and easily dealt with. Tribes moved at night under the cover of darkness, and they were the real threat.

"What's the news out on the streets? We find it's safer in the mountains, but we're so isolated that we don't hear much."

"It's all news to me," Bella said sarcastically, rolling her eyes at me.

"Sorry. What I meant was, what are the other tribes talking about right now?"

Bella frowned, her eyes looking to the ceiling as she sorted through her memories. "There was a lot of talk about a tribe making its way through the east. Talk of regaining control and beginning the new order. They say one of them is a doctor."

I was impressed at the fact. Doctors were few and far between in the new world. God knows we could use one with Alice's situation.

"And there's water shortages in a lot of the bigger cities. LA is a ghost town. People can't survive there without food or water."

"Shit." If the thousands taking refuge in LA were relocating, we could be easily overrun. They'd have to head somewhere, and I could only hope they travelled south or east instead of north.

"A lot were talking about heading closer to the ocean. They found a way to get fresh water out of the salt water."

"Boiling it with the cup in the pot?"

"Yeah. You know it?"

I nodded and took a seat in a chair near Bella's. "It's how we purify water from the lake when we don't want to use the well. It's slow work, but it's worth the effort."

"Do you have stores of fresh water?"

I shot her a hard look and she paled beneath the harshness of my gaze.

"No, no. That's not what I meant. Sorry. I'm not spying. I wish you'd believe me."

"No more questions," I responded. Settling back in my chair, I turned my eyes to the window where I could see through a small, uncovered area just above the ledge. Bella, not seeming to know what to do, sat and stared at the wall above Edward's still form.

+++

After two weeks without incident, we decided it would be okay for Bella to live a bit more freely, without 24 hour guard. Actually, Alice decided for us and we were all too exhausted to argue. Everyone's individual workload had already increased to make up for Alice's inability to work. Adding in a full guard shift in addition to the extra chores was too heavy a load for us to bear much longer.

I watched cautiously as Edward led Bella into the woods, two shotguns on his back. He was going hunting and was determined to teach Bella how to shoot. She may have earned the right to live without a guard, but I wasn't certain about her holding a firearm.

"It'll be fine," Rosalie comforted me, though her tense posture belied her words as she sat on the couch. "Edward will keep an eye on her. He's pretty taken with Miss Swan."

"I've noticed," I grumbled, moving to sit next to her on the couch. I wrapped an arm around her shoulders and adjusted so she could lean against me comfortably. It had been a week since we'd been able to show each other even this much affection between work and the watch. I breathed deeply, enjoying the scent of Rose's precious honey shampoo made from a recipe she'd managed to find in an old cookbook in the cabin. She must have gotten a chance to shower today. I shifted uncomfortably, realizing it had been a few days since I'd had the chance to bathe.

"Don't worry. You don't smell too bad," Rose laughed softly, somehow reading my mind. "You've smelled worse."

I gave her a look and she rolled her eyes. "Come on," she said, standing up with a slight groan as she stood on weary legs. "I'll wash your hair for you."

Her slender fingers wrapped around my calloused hands, and she led me into the woods where a small river ran that connected the mountain springs to the nearby lake. We reached the spot where we'd set up a bathing station within five minutes' distance from the cabins, and she went about setting up the small fire beneath the basin while I filled it with water from the river. After a few minutes, the water heated enough to be used and she doused the fire. I pulled off my dirty clothes until I was standing in nothing but my boxers and let Rose scrub gently with the rarely-used honey scented soap. She and Alice had gone to great lengths to make the soap and shampoo, the ingredients so difficult to obtain in current times. The soaps were an unheard of luxury, even the crude home-made versions that were relatively dissimilar to what existed before the war. I must have been pretty foul if Rose thought it necessary to use the fancy soaps on someone who appreciated them as little as I did.

"Emmett Jonathan McCarty, I cannot believe you touch me with these filthy nails," she scolded playfully, scrubbing at my filthy hands with the wash cloth. I only shrugged. I'd been exhausted this afternoon and hadn't had a chance to wash them yet.

"What do you think of Bella?" I asked, feeling my aching muscles relax as she moved the warm cloth in soothing, circular motions up my arm to my shoulders. I was curious to hear what Rose thought of Bella. She'd watched her carefully at first, but seemed to be loosening up around her.

"I think she's terrified and lonely," she said after a few moments' silence. "I'm still not certain about her, but she hasn't done anything to get on my blacklist yet. And I think she's a gift to Edward. He's happy with her. She sits with him on his shifts and talks to him, gets him to open up to her. I think she's good for him."

"As long as he's staying vigilant and not getting wrapped up in his conversations," I grumbled, earning me a light flick on the ear from Rose.

"You know Edward wouldn't slack on something important like that."

"And how's Alice doing?" I hadn't seen Alice for a few days. My guard shifts had been nights and I was asleep most of the day when she was out. She rarely ventured out of the cabin so close to her due date.

"She's worried." Rose moved the cloth from my shoulders to my back, and I nearly groaned aloud with pleasure as she began to ease my knotted muscles. "She won't admit it, but she's terrified she'll die in childbirth."

"They should have used taken precautions," I pointed out.

"These things happen," Rosalie sighed. I didn't miss the wistful note in her voice. Even though Alice and Jasper had landed themselves in a life-threatening position, I knew Rose envied them. She'd always dreamed of marrying and starting a family. It killed her that she couldn't have it. I'd be more than willing to have a child with her, but we couldn't risk it. Not yet, with the world in darkness and chaos. She was so afraid of what might happen, she wouldn't even admit she loved me – as if doing so might result in my being torn from her arms the minute the words left her lips.

She didn't have to say the words. They weren't necessary. She told me in other ways, like with the care and gentle nature she had now as she washed me. She finished with my back and moved slowly as her fingers lingered on my stomach. She pushed down my boxers, leaving me bare and vulnerable to the elements and her eyes as she stroked the newly exposed flesh with the soapy water and cloth. It wasn't sexual, despite the motions of her hands or the sensitivity of the area. It was love. It was care. When she was done, she bent down and pulled my boxers back up. I dressed myself once more, only leaving my shirt off as she washed my hair. It was getting longer, and the black curls were getting matted, so it took her a while to work through the tangles before she rinsed me off. The water had grown cold by the time we finished.

"Thank you," I said softly, kissing her lightly.

"Rosalie? Emmett?"

We both started as Bella's voice rang through the trees, followed by the girl crashing through the woods a few moments behind it. I would have to teach her how to run properly through the brush at some point. She was way too loud.

"We need to boil water. The baby's coming."

"Fuck," I cursed. "Alright. Rose, Bella – grab the buckets and fill them. We'll try to use as much river water as possible. I don't want to go into the stores at camp unless I have to."

As they filled the buckets, I grabbed the basin and filled it halfway. In two minutes we were trekking back to the main camp. When we arrived at Jasper and Alice's cabin, I scowled to see how far into the delivery Alice already was.

"When did it start?"

"She was having pains yesterday morning," Jasper admitted, his eyes never leaving Alice's pain-wracked form. I watched in surprise as Bella moved to sit beside Alice, not paying attention to the blood-soaked sheets, and began to massage her lower back, urging her to keep breathing.

"Why didn't you say anything?" I hissed. "Fuck. You haven't told any of us."

"She didn't think it was serious. The real pains only started about two hours ago and everyone was busy. It doesn't happen instantly. We knew there was time. We only sent Bella to find you when she started bleeding everywhere."

Jasper pulled me to the side, his back to the girls. "I sent Edward to find his dad's medical texts, but he doesn't know where they were put after the last raid. I mean... Fucking Christ! I don't know what the hell we're supposed to do. Is there supposed to be this much blood?"

"The fuck if I know."

Alice screamed as her body convulsed, oblivious to the comforting advice coming from Bella and Rosalie.

"Put something in her mouth," Edward said as he walked back into the cabin. "You can hear her all over the mountain, and we can't afford to have visitors right now."

Tears streamed down Alice's face, but she nodded and consented to biting down on an empty pillow case, though it didn't do much to dampen her screams.

"Your father's a doctor, Edward?" Bella asked from her seat by Alice.

"Yeah. Dr. Carlisle Cullen, renowned heart surgeon," Edward nodded, his eyes weary. His expression was hollow, a common look among the people when discussing the lost. "He was in New York on D-Day. Haven't seen or heard of him since the bombs."

"I'm sorry," Bella said softly, an oddly thoughtful look on her face as she studied Edward in silence, her fingers never stopping their gentle kneading motion on Alice's back.

Three hours later, though it seemed like days, Seth Benjamin Hale arrived in the world, screaming for all his worth. He seemed perfectly fine, his skin flushed with health, all his fingers and toes intact and of a normal size, but an ominous solemnity hung about him like a black cloud. It had been difficult enough for us to survive as it was, but with such a fragile addition to our party, life had grown considerably more complicated.

We cleaned up the best we could after Bella and Rose worked to stem the bleeding and left the new family to get acquainted.

"Do you think they'll be all right?" Bella asked, concern lining her young face. When we left, Alice had been in tears, whispering "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," to the baby over and over while Jasper tried to comfort her.

"Eventually," I answered, not quite sure of the answer myself. Alice was strong, but I had never seen her look so frightened as she did when she held the baby in her arms.

Bella and I returned to the main cabin, and Rosalie and Edward picked up their rifles to do a sweep of the camp before bed. They decided to combine their guard shifts in case there were any nearby tribes who had overheard the ordeal of the night. Safety in numbers was key to survival.

I stripped myself of my outer clothes and was looking forward to sleep. Exhaustion weighed heavily on my bones like lead weights sewn beneath my skin. I shuffled to my bed and hesitated, hearing a murmur of a voice from the next room. Wondering who Bella was talking to, I crept forward, easing the door to the main room open silently so I could step inside.

Bella kneeled next to her makeshift bed – no more substantial than a bundle of blankets on the floor at this point – lit only by a single candle.

"...Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses," she murmured softly. A small object glinted in her hand, and I squinted to see what it was in the dark. It looked like a rosary which surprised me. We hadn't found a rosary upon searching her when she'd arrived, and I hadn't seen her with it before now. "...as we forgive those who trespass against us, and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil."

"How is it possible that you can still believe in God after everything that's happened?"

Bella looked at me, not seeming at all alarmed or shocked that I was standing there, though she'd made no indication of noticing my presence before. Her expression was impossible to interpret.

"How is it possible to find the strength and courage to get out of bed every day if you don't?" she asked earnestly.

I said nothing. I couldn't.

"I have to believe this world's not heartless," she continued. "I need there to be something more. There needs to be salvation to make the suffering bearable. My brother..."

"We all want to believe there's good out there," I acknowledged. "But sometimes you have to admit it's not possible for there to be an end to the darkness. It's been ten years and things are only getting worse as we become more depraved and desperate."

"How can you think that when there are miracles witnessed with your own eyes?" Bella said, pressing me with the strength and conviction of her voice. "Seth alone proves there is still light and innocence and _good_ in this world. There is still purity, even amid this mess."

"Mess? The world is destroyed," I replied bitterly. Bella didn't deserve my vitriol, but the anger had built up so long and so solidly without release that I couldn't stop it. "I've seen people strike out against their own families to get ahead. The murder of children. There is true evil out there. I couldn't even imagine the things I've seen before the wars."

"Not destroyed," she countered. "Just broken - damaged. If we work together, we can fix it. There's already talk of the Leaders and the regaining of order in the east. Maybe they'll come here and stop the chaos."

"Or maybe they're another powerful tribe that plans to wipe out everything in their path."

"Failure only exists for those unwilling to accept goodness when it crosses their path. If nobody trusts, we'll never be reconciled. The wars will never end. The powers are demolished and war only exists because the people choose for it to be there. It was never _our_ war. The things they fought for don't even exist anymore, for heaven's sake!"

"It's impossible to trust anyone anymore," I argued.

"You trusted me," she answered softly.

"Where are you from?"

We both started and turned toward the front door where Edward stood transfixed. We had been so caught up in our debate that neither of us had noticed his entrance.

"The same place as you," Bella sighed. "Maybe it's because I didn't see the beginnings of the tribes and the new world like you did that causes me to have a different view, or maybe it's just because I'm not as jaded as you, but I don't see why these wars continue. There's nothing left to fight for, so why are we still at war?"

"Because we don't know anything else," Edward answered for me. "Hope for a better life was lost to us long before the first bombs went off. All we know is death, destruction and chaos. This life is all we have."

"No," Bella protested, tears spilling from her eyes slowly. "I can see by the way you care for each other and cared for me, you have pure souls. You have goodness in you. There are others out there. Tribes just like yours who care and are compassionate. You're all just too scared to let each other in. You're too scared of the Leaders to let them reconcile you and save you!"

"How do you know the Leaders want to save us? How do you know they don't want to control us for their own gains?" I interrupted.

"Because one of them is my father," Bella cried.

"So they sent you here to prepare the way for them?" Edward asked, an edge of anger making his voice dark.

"No. I really hoped to find better out here. And I hoped to find you, Edward. Even though it was an impossible feat. Five years I've searched for you."

"What?" Edward's face paled, his face ghostly white in the dim candlelight.

"Explain," I demanded.

"One of the leaders is a doctor. He spoke of his son from Chicago and how he thought his son might have headed west to find remnants of family in California. He was too afraid to search himself, terrified of what he might find."

"So what made you take up the search for him?" I asked, my suspicion making my stomach churn. It didn't make sense.

"He was in California with my dad when I met him. He found out his family had been killed in the first bombing and his son wasn't there. He tried to save my brother after we were attacked, but it was too late for him. I... I felt like I owed him something for trying."

She took in a ragged breath, and her eyes flickered back and forth between Edward and me. "That's why I searched for you. That's why I'm here. I owe Dr. Cullen."

"Dr. Cullen," Edward repeated softly. He looked like he was about to drop, but he stood like stone.

"My mission gave me something to work toward, to keep my mind off how bad everything was getting. I couldn't go with my dad. It was too dangerous. They were headed back to the east where things are way worse than here. More violent."

"Why didn't you say something earlier?" I demanded. I wiped my clammy palms off on my jeans. It couldn't be true. It wasn't possible.

"I wasn't sure it was you," she said, addressing Edward. "I've drifted through so many tribes. I'd given up."

"You lied to us about your presence here." I stated coldly, my fists clenching in anger. How could she have fooled us? How could Alice have missed this?

"No, not really," she said, shaking her head. "I found you by accident. I was honestly just looking for water and food."

Neither of us said a word. It was too difficult to sort through the information or to tell what was false and what was truth. We were too exhausted emotionally and physically to comprehend all that was happening.

"I'm sorry I kept secrets from you. They told me to keep myself separated from them for safety. I wanted to gain your trust so that you'd know I wasn't lying when I told you the truth when I began to suspect Edward was the boy I was searching for."

"You lied to us so we'd know you weren't lying," I pointed out, my voice hardened with anger.

"I'm not perfect," Bella said pleadingly. "Please. Just, believe when I say I don't mean anyone harm. I just needed to make friends. I needed to survive too. I've never been on my own. First the shelter, then my brother caring for me... I just needed water."

"Why didn't you stay with your father?" Edward demanded. A crease furrowed his brow and his eyes narrowed with distrust.

"They were headed into the worst areas. It was too dangerous for me. My father couldn't quit his mission though. They knew that the good they were doing to reunite the tribes was more important than a grown daughter and son who could defend themselves in the country."

"What's going on?" Rosalie asked, coming into the room, probably having heard the commotion.

"Sounds awfully cold for a man to leave his children," I countered, giving Rose a look to let her know I'd fill her in later.

"They couldn't ignore the opportunity to change the order and make things better," Bella insisted.

"You've actually spoken with my father?" Edward finally asked. "He's part of the Leaders tribe?"

"Yes. Tall guy, blonde with white streaks, looks like you but with brown eyes and stubble. Life-saving surgeon, probably one of the few left these days," Bella answered. "He also believed you to be dead when he saw the ruins of your family's home."

"Sounds like him," Edward admitted, running a hand through his tangled hair. He sat down heavily on the couch. "He's alive..."

"And working with my father to regain some semblance of peace and unity among the tribes. You haven't heard the news up here, I've figured out that much."

"Why didn't you say anything before now?" Rosalie asked, her eyes searching Bella's with a fierceness that made me proud.

"I had to know I could trust you."

"I think we need to take some time to think this over," I interrupted. "It's a lot to take in at once. We'll talk later with Alice and Jasper."

I all but collapsed on the bed after Rose and I retreated to our room. Rosalie got into bed beside me, taking her place within my arms.

"You're dirty again," she whispered, breaking the tension that still lay like a heavy fog over the tribe.

"You'll have to wash me," I agreed. It seemed like an eternity since that intimate moment in the woods, e, ven though it was only hours ago.

"Do you really think these so-called 'Leaders' are for real? Do you think it's true? Edward's dad being alive and all?"

"I don't know," I answered honestly. I ran my fingers down her arm, and brushed her hair back from her face. "It's a nice dream."

"Dreams are nice," Rosalie murmured, snuggling into my chest. "I miss them."

"You don't dream anymore?"

"Never."

"Why?"

"I don't think my imagination can process that kind of hope anymore. I have nightmares or I have nothing. Just an escape from this hell into oblivion until I wake up again."

My brow furrowed as I peered through the darkness of the room. The boarded up windows prevented the early morning light from filtering in and the candle had burnt out before a new one could be placed. It was too little light to discern the features of Rosalie's face. I couldn't make out her expression, just the shape of her eyes.

"Do you still dream?"

"Sort of," I said slowly. "My dreams are mostly memories now. Memories from the past and what it was like before the wars."

"Do you think it can be like that again?" she asked. She'd only been eleven years old on D-Day. She'd never seen the world for what it was. She hadn't even been able to grasp even the little truth that my fourteen-year-old brain had. She'd only seen our society through the veil of a child's eyes.

"No."

"Really?"

"We can't ever go back," I said with conviction. "Wouldn't want to, either. Going back would only lead us here again. But I think things can be better. I think we need to find these leaders, especially if Bella's and Edward's fathers are part of their tribe. Maybe there's hope."

"Maybe salvation," Rosalie whispered, as if such an idea could never be possible if spoken aloud.

"I think we should try. For Seth if not for any other reason."

"For Seth," Rosalie agreed.

For the first time in ten years, we fell asleep with a glimmer of hope for our futures. When we woke the next morning, Rosalie told me she'd had the first dream she could remember having since D-Day, on Christmas morning ten years ago.

She'd dreamt of a world where we were safe. A world of light where hope, trust and love weren't mythical concepts existing only in story books.

She told me she loved me.

I'd dreamt of the last fall before the wars.

The sun burned bright, causing the autumn leaves to look like fire falling from the sky as the golden nymph danced beneath them, hair glimmering in the light. Watching her took my breath away, so I said nothing. I only stood back and watched her graceful movements.

"Emmett McCarty," she laughed, stopping her swirling, twirling, spinning motions. "Are you just going to stand there or are you going to dance with me?"

It wasn't really a question. Before I could answer, she'd grabbed hold of my hands and pulled me beneath the windblown rain of leaves, forcing me to spin with her. It was only minutes before our feet became tangled and we tumbled onto the soft, damp grass. Rosalie wasn't mad at me; she laughed, her cheeks rosy with joy and the frost-tinged air. I was the only one who knew this girl, the one who danced in fire and light. Everyone else knew her as the ice queen. She was cold - a frozen beauty - to others. She didn't let them in or let them see. Only I was granted that privilege. I didn't know by what miracle she'd chosen me, but she had.

My heart stopped beating as she leaned forward and pressed her soft lips to mine. I was too shocked to move, to press back. My first kiss and I hadn't even had the presence of mind to actually kiss. Rosalie smiled, I laughed, and then we tried again.

When I awoke, the warm memory of my dream still wrapped around me like a blanket.

There was hope. 


	27. One Shot from Calin Durus

**Penname**: CalinDurus

**Rating**: M

**Pairing**: Rosalie & Emmett

**Summary**: After the attacks on 9-11, Emmett left everything he knew to protect the one he loves, even at the risk of losing her. What happens when he returns home nine years later? Who will be there to welcome him home?

**A/N: This plot came to me while hearing a friend of mine talk about her experience welcoming our soldiers home. I don't know about you, but the image of Emmett in Army Fatigues… Gosh, I love a man in uniform. Thank you to Kirmit for providing the Rose to my Emmett and Knittingfncy for her red pen services. Enjoy!**

**Welcome Home**

I glanced around the plane. The sea of somber, tired, and anxious men and women in uniform stared blankly at the movie the commercial airline provided for us. The long trip seemed longer than it should have as one of the few men of my battalion prattled on nervously about seeing his wife again. I smiled at him as he debated whether she would get dressed up for his return home or not.

"Truth be told, Sir, I'm torn," he said.

I couldn't help but laugh. "First, it's Emmett now. Once we bored the plane, Whitlock, I was no longer Sergeant McCarty. Second, why are you so nervous? It's not like you didn't talk to her two weeks ago? She's the same little beauty ain't she?"

Whitlock smirked and nodded. "Yeah she is. God I missed her." He breathed.

"Then relax and think about how you're gonna greet her. Odds are she's scared shitless that you're in the pines." I could see the look of guilt flash through his eyes. We both felt guilty. Neither one of us liked the idea that we were bringing home six of our brothers and sister home in pine boxes.

I carried more guilt than Whitlock though. I should have been on that convoy with them. I was their leader and I let them die.

"Don't," Whitlock said softly as I felt his hand squeeze my shoulder.

"The burden of being the big dog," I said with a sad smile. He responded with an understanding nod, his blue eyes so much like my Rosie's.

_Rosie... _Jesus, it hurt to think of her after all this time. Nine years had been far too long and that crap about time healing all wounds was absolute horse shit. If anything, the time made it worse. Her name and memory was like a wound that refused to heal, constantly being irritated by the pouring of salt into it.

I constantly wondered how she was. Did she find that man she thought I could be? The one that would move the heaven and stars just to see her smile? The man that would worship her as if she was Aphrodite herself? Did she get back with that dickhead Royce? Get married and have babies?

Or did the Rosalie Hale I know die the same day I did? Were the words that passed through her lips as we stood in the middle of the kitchen in our little studio apartment, so cold and careless, the truth of how she felt about us?

I sighed and scrubbed my face. It's crazy how even now I could still hear her voice as she told me that from that moment on, I was dead to her. I remembered it so clearly, it was like she was behind me right now saying it again.

I didn't blame her for her words. I knew that she would be pissed when I told my commanding officer I wanted to fight. She hated everything the Bush administration stood for, often comparing it to that of Nixon's. God, I loved that about her, the way she was never afraid to say what she was thinking, or who it would piss off; she had independent nature and wasn't afraid to show it.

She was the modern man's Marilyn Monroe, a curvy blonde bombshell that knew how to wiggle her hips and bat her baby-blue eyes in a way that you could never deny her. She preferred three inch heels to sneakers, and getting dirty under the hood of a car than watching soaps. She was perfection.

Don't think that because she was graced with beauty, that she didn't have brains to support herself. She sure as hell did. She wasn't just street smart, but book smart too. I'd joke and tell her to dumb it down for the jock. She'd scold me for thinking that way about myself.

A part of me had hoped that when we landed in D.C. she would be there. What I wouldn't give to see her smile as our eyes met. To see her standing there with the families, all anxiously awaiting our arrival. Whitlock was worried if his wife was gonna wear a dress or jeans. I knew what Rosie would wear if she was there when I got off the plane. And I knew just how I would greet her.

The announcement from the captain of the plane brought me out of my thoughts. Men and women around me clapped and whistled, all appreciative of the safe flight home, of the thanks he gave us for doing our jobs.

I glanced over at the tall, blond man sitting beside me as his leg bounced in anticipation, his hands idly rolling the platinum band on his left hand. He was so nervous to put the ring back on; years of wearing it around his neck had seemed so normal. Then again, everything we knew about home seemed odd compared to what we knew in Iraq.

I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the back of my seat. The words of thanks that I was going to give to several families floating through my head. I was told to refer to each member as Private First Class [insert surname here], but it didn't feel right. These kids - yes kids - put themselves on the line every day to help bring peace to a country that didn't want us there. They deserved to be honored, not to be another nameless soldier.

After the jerking of the plane subsided, signaling our touch down on the tarmac, I opened my eyes. Michael Newton, the other member of my squad, stood up and gave me a respectful nod.

"Tell Jess I expect some of those famous Christmas cookies," I joked with him. He nodded more vigorously, his excitement to see his fiancée obvious with his smile.

"You gonna meet my girl, Emmett?" Whitlock asked as he pulled his bag from the overhead.

"Of course I will. I gotta meet the pretty little Alice in person." That earned a grin from him. "And I wanna see you blush when she calls you Jazzy," I teased.

He rolled his eyes. "Hopefully she'll refrain from that." We both looked at each other and laughed. "Yeah, probably not," he said ruefully as he placed my bag in his unoccupied seat.

"Thanks, Jasper. I'll catch up with you after the service," I told him. He nodded then saluted before leaving the aircraft.

"Sergeant McCarty?" A flight attendant asked.

"Ma'am," I nodded.

"The captain is asking that I let all commanding officers know that they will remove the caskets once you've had a chance to speak with their families," she explained with a sad smile.

I searched her uniform and past the cascading brown curls I found her name tag. "Extend my gratitude to him for me, Bella."

She nodded and started to leave. I picked up my bag, intending on exiting, when she stopped suddenly in front of me. "Sir, I just wanted to say thank you."

"No need to thank me," I told her.

She tucked her hair behind her ears and gave another sad smile. "My father was a police officer in a small town. Every day the people would thank him, even for something as silly as bringing a drunken husband home safely from Billy's Bar," she chuckled softly. "He'd always say it was nothing, that he was 'just doing his job.' But it was because of him and his job that the people of Forks went to bed feeling safe. What you and the rest of the men and women on this flight did was more than your job. You made sure the families of foreign people were able to rest their heads, knowing that they were safe from the tyrant they had feared before."

I rubbed the back of my neck to hide the faint blush her words had brought forth. "Thank you, Bella. I appreciate it," I told her honestly.

She smiled wide and nodded. "Not all of us are for the war, but we sure as hell weren't against you guys." And with that she returned to the front of the plane.

I took a steadying breath, preparing myself for what was to come as I descended the stairs. I looked out at the crowd. I could see the sea of soldiers being embraced by their families. The cheers and laughter echoing in my ears as I made my way to the hanger.

This was where they would be lining up the fallen. In neat little rows, the pine boxes would sit peacefully, awaiting the dressing of the flag, before each of the twenty went into a hearse, leading them to their final resting place. This was also were the family of those fallen would be waiting.

When I entered the hanger, I could feel the change in atmosphere without need Jasper's really strange, but oddly accurate ability to feel around him. A part of me wanted to go back outside, where everyone happy and relieved as opposed to the feeling in here. Sorrow and despair, which was the best way I could describe it; a feeling so thick, I felt as if it was choking the very life out of me.

_You can do this, Em..._ I tried my best to give myself a mental pep talk as I headed to the families for my unit. Several of the mothers hugged me as they wept, thanking me for the kind words of the son or daughter. I, in turn, thanked them. If it hadn't been for their family, I wouldn't have gotten the opportunity to meet them.

I tried my best to comfort each family, answering any questions they had, retelling stories that I had heard from their soldier. I took comfort in the smiles and tear-filled laughs. When it was time to talk to Abby's husband, my heart broke as the little girl in his arms looked at me. She looked so much like her mother that I could see why she was all Abby ever talked about. I did all I could, hoping that when she grew up, she would understand that her mom loved her and never forgot about her, no matter how far apart they were.

Once we had a chance to talk to the families, the commanding officers went to the cargo hold of the plane, where we would each walk with the fallen to the hanger. I hadn't expected to see Jasper and Michael standing there when I joined up, but grateful to have their support.

"They became our family ya know?" Jasper said with a small shrug. I nodded.

"Yeah they have," Michael agreed.

Together the three of us walked silently besides the caskets. The families and friends of everyone around us silent as we made our way into the hanger. Neither one of us said a word as slowly we began to place a flag over each box.

One of the girls from the Navy had started singing _Amazing Grace_ as she dressed her own members. I could feel the small smile on my lips as Jasper and Michael joined in. A fitting tribute it you asked me.

Alas, our final duty was done. And instead of a sense of accomplishment, I felt empty. I didn't know what I was going to do now that I was home. The last nine years I had a purpose, a reason for doing things. True, it was for a cause I didn't think we should have stuck our noses in, but regardless, I had a path to take. Before that, my path had been with another person, but that too is gone.

I watched Jasper go to who I could only assume was his girl and smiled when he waved me over. I nodded, letting him know I was coming before actually getting my feet to move. The closer I got to where he was, the more the petite brunette seemed familiar to me. I saw her smile at a woman with her and my heart stopped.

Standing there in jeans, a sweater, and heels, was an angel. _My_ angel. I could hear a gasp and I wanted to look at the source, but I couldn't take my eyes off the blonde in front of me.

"Guys, this is Sergeant McCarty," Jasper said trying to introduce me.

"Rosie..." I breathed, just as her head snapped in my direction.

"Em?" Alice gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. Rosalie's eyes went wide for a moment, then narrowed.

_Holy shit, Jasper's Ali was Rosie's Alice! _My brain screamed at me as I nodded at my long time friend.

"Um..." Alice began, her eyes darting between me and Rosalie. "Emmett, Jazzy, you remember Rose? And her son, Xander?" Alice gestured towards the boy standing next to Rosalie, he had dark curly hair and when he smiled at me and Jasper, the dimples in his cheeks became prominent. His eyes were Rosalie's, but the rest of him was the spitting image of me.

I tried my best to give Alice a jovial smile. "Of course I remember Rose, Ali. You gonna give your old friend a hug?" I asked her.

Alice, ever the same excited little smurf she's always been, nodded excitedly and practically tackled me in a hug. I hugged her tightly, glad to have some sense of familiarity in her laugh and embrace.

"God, I missed you," I told her letting her go. "I can't believe how much you and Rose have changed." This time my eyes locked on to Rose's blue ones.

"Nine years is a long time," Rosalie said in an almost bored tone.

"Yeah, some would say too long..." I looked from her to Xander and back. "You look good, Rosie."

"I know," she said with a small smile. Same ol' Rosie.

"You know what?" Jasper said suddenly picking up Xander and getting everyone's attention.

"What?" Alice asked, sounding relieved.

"I could really go for nachos and a beer," he said with a nod that made Xander scrunch his nose up and shake his head. "What? I'd share the nachos with you," Jasper laughed.

"Beer is gross, Uncle Jazz."

"You should come with us, Em," Alice chirped, ignoring the glare from Rosalie.

"Yeah," Jasper chimed in. "Don't leave me and Xan with the girls... please."

I laughed and shook my head. "I wouldn't want to impose on your homecoming." Not to mention nine years clearly weren't long enough for Rosalie.

"Come on, Em! You don't have anyone to celebrate with and that just ain't right!" Alice urged.

I thought it over before tossing my arm around her shoulder, which she in turn, wrapped an arm around my waist. "I guess I could go... maybe see if I can't tell Jasper a thing or two about his little wife," I teased and Alice scowled up at me.

"Oooh, I think I'm gonna like this!" Jasper said laughing at Alice's obvious disapproval.

"Watch yourself, Whitlock, or me and Xander might actually get a decent night's sleep tonight," Rosalie informed him.

Jasper gaped at her as he set Xander down. "Alice wouldn't..." he started but looked at Alice. "Babe?" He asked in the most pitiful voice I've heard him use in the two years I've known him.

I just laughed and shook my head. "Maybe we should get going before things are said that can't be undone?" _Yep, talking to you, Rose,_ I added silently.

Alice skipped over to her husband and pecked him on the cheek before taking his arm. "Alright... we'll all follow Rosalie?"

Jasper nodded while sharing a look with his wife. I could see the smile on both their faces and bit back a laugh. No wonder she married him; he had the "evil plot" smile, too. "Ya know what, Rose? I think Ali and I can take Xander... give you and Em a chance to catch up?"

Rosalie gave him a tight-lipped smile, but before she could refuse Xander began jumping up and down in front of his mom. "That sounds awesome! Please can I go with Uncle Jazz, mom? Please?" Her face melted and she gave him a nod.

"Where are we going, squirt?" He asked, once the kid had bounced his way to Jasper and Alice. I tried my best not to stare at Rose, but I think I was failing at it. It was hard not to. I thought she was sexy before, but seeing her be a mother to our son... _Fuck me, that's hot_.

"Applebee's!" Xander shouted as he climbed into Alice's Outback.

"Well... looks like it's you and me, Rose," I said once the others where in the car.

"Come on," she said, gesturing for me to follow her as she lead me to the cherry red Jeep she now drove.

"Got rid of the BMW?" I asked.

"It wasn't really good to have with Xander... besides I got a good deal on it. Was able to buy this and pay off some debt," she explained as we climbed in.

"Make sense... So, uh, Xander... he's what? Eight or nine?"

"Eight..." she said calmly buckling herself in.

"Huh... big kid." _What the hell am I even talking about?_

"Like his daddy," she said, giving me a knowing look.

_Well, there something to feed off of_. "Does he know about his dad?" I asked her. Truth be told I was afraid to hear the answer, but I needed to know.

She shook his head. "He's never asked."

"And if he did?" I asked, rubbing my sweaty and nervous hands along thighs.

"I would've told him the truth. His daddy left me for the war."

"I didn't leave you! I told you I was coming back."

She rolled her eyes. "There was no guarantee that you would. Em... I don't want to fight with you right now..."

"I made you a promise, Rose. I've never once broke a promise to you," I countered like a scolded child as I looked out the window. "I don't see why we even gotta fight."

"We don't. We should just eat dinner with our friends..."

I glanced over at her and sighed. "You're right." _Dinner and then I'll be on my way._


	28. One Shot by Autumn Dreamer

**Pen name: **Autumn Dreamer

**Rating: **M (for language)

**Pairing: **Emmett & Rosalie

**Title**: Café Crushes

**Summary: **Emmett has a crush on Rosalie who works at the café down the street from his office. Can he work up the courage to ask her out? Comedy/Romance

**A/N:** Many thanks to Lee723 for planting the idea and HMonster4 for editing. Big huge hugs and thanks to HMonster4, AccioBourbon and TheHeartOfLife for hosting this!

xXxXx

Sitting at my desk, I clutched the sides of the humongous structure so hard I was surprised that I hadn't cracked it. Just the thought of walking into the café made me an anxious, wired ball of nerves. My stomach was in knots and I hadn't even left the office.

And this was one of my better days.

"Boss?"

I jumped at the sound of Angela's voice through the intercom.

"Calm the hell down," I told myself before pressing the button to reply. "What's up, Ange?"

"Are you leaving this morning?"

Ange knew my routine. Every morning at nine o'clock I left to get a cup of coffee and something to eat down the street at the Downtown Express Café. It was now quarter after nine and I was still glued to my desk. I wanted to get out of my chair, stride confidently out of my office, and walk into the café without my stomach in knots. I wanted to say more than an awkward 'hello' to her, the prettiest woman I had ever laid eyes on in my entire life.

But here I sat in my office, feeling like a huge pussy and trying work up the nerve to get out of my chair.

"Boss?" The nickname was Angela's way of being in full work mode. No matter how many times I told her, she wouldn't call me by my first name at work, unless she wanted something—like a paid day off. I rose from my chair, crossing the room and pulled the door open with a quick burst. It ricocheted off the wall with a loud bang, causing Angela to jump as she swiveled in my direction. "Boss!"

"Sorry, Ange," I apologized, closing the door to my office; I made my way toward the exit. "You want anything?"

Angela chuckled loudly. "Only if you don't run into _her_ and make it back here within a decent amount of time. Otherwise, screw it."

"I'm going to fire you one day."

My trusty assistant laughed at me. Maybe I should have listened to my mother years ago. She always thought Angela and I would make a great couple, but I never saw her that way. Instead, she was more like another younger sister. I even stood up for Ange when and ex-boyfriend tried to bully her into seeing him again. One raised brow and a dirty look in his direction and the idiotic pipsqueak pissed his pants. I was a tad disappointed that I hadn't gotten to intimidate him any further. Not that my height wasn't intentionally alarming enough. I towered over everyone I knew, even the local basketball players who always tried to get me to join them. Funny thing was, basketball wasn't my sport of choice.

Angela pressed her elbows into her desk, placing her chin in the palms of her hands and smiled widely. "Oh, Boss, you're so sweet to me."

Leaning against the outer door, I pushed it open and stood halfway outside. "Don't spread that around. I got a rep to keep you know."

"I know." Angela had a glint in her eye that reminded me of my sister Alice. She was always planning or plotting something, but I never knew exactly what. I didn't have the time to mull it over if I was going to get my ass to the café. "As the most lovable Boss ever."

"Hey!" Although my voice was a deep baritone, I sounded as threatening as Zach Galifianakis.

"Go get her," she winked. "Make her yours."

My face felt hot, sweat beaded at my temples. "You're embarrassing me."

"I know," she said, giggling. "Don't you know by now that I love to embarrass you? Drop the cuddly teddy bear routine and slap on the Prince Charming outfit."

"I'm no Prince Charming." Realizing I had been absent mindedly turning the doorknob back and forth, I stopped and balled my hand into a fist. "I'm just… me."

Angela sighed. "You are a gigantic, charming, lovable man with a heart of gold. That could work to your advantage if you don't intimidate her. No slinging her over your shoulder on your first date or anything like that. Now, go woo your woman!"

"You need to stop hanging out with Alice."

"Over _your_ dead body. Now, get your ass in gear and good luck." She raised her hand and showed off two crossed fingers. "'Cause I know you're gonna need it."

Angela was behaving so much like Alice it was as if the two of them were twins, which was impossible since Angela was half Hispanic and Alice and I were very obviously not.

Slowly I walked down the block, silently giving myself a pep talk as the crisp autumn air filled my lungs. Everything from "You can do this" to "Atta boy" floated through my head. When I reached the front door to the café I was no more confident then when I'd left the office. No more nervous, but no more courageous either. I was there so much that most of the regular employees knew my name and vice versa. Although we never said much to each other, her name was the first one I learned. As I made my way into the café, my eyes immediately darted toward the registers. She was there, behind the counter, smiling cheerfully and as pretty as ever.

Rosalie.

While staring uncontrollably in her direction, a mild pain shot through my lower back. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw the door shut behind me and a man stepped forward. He looked up at me, eyes wide in surprise, and started to apologize profusely. I thought he was going to offer to buy me coffee until I finally told him that I was fine. He made his way toward the registers, looking back at me with a timid glance, before staring at the menu board.

I wished I was shorter, at least by a few inches. I'd give almost anything to be less intimidating to others around me. Someone else started to walk in through the door and this time I heard the chime from the bell. I stepped forward out of the way to avoid causing another scene. Besides, I was stalling. Moving forward, into the café itself, would certainly help my chances of speaking to Rosalie.

Wiping my palms against the front of my pants, I slowly walked forward to the line. Rosalie and Mike were taking turns at the register with the customer's orders. I calculated my chances of actually having Rosalie wait on me. There was a stoner. A mother with two kids in tow. Some Goth chick. A little old lady with bright red hair that reminded me of Lucille Ball. The guy that bumped the door into my back only moments ago.

If everything continued the way it was going, Rosalie would wait on me. I stared at the menu board, deciding on what to order and tried to think what I could say to her besides 'Good morning' that wouldn't sound forced and fake. No one else had come in and I prayed it stayed that way. Hell, the entire place could empty out for all I cared.

A piercing scream brought me back to my senses. The woman with the two kids suddenly walked out of the line, dragging what I would now consider two devil children out of the store screaming at one another.

I had no idea what had happened to cause such a commotion, but another blond would be taking my order. Since I wasn't into guys, I wasn't the least little bit excited about talking to Mike.

I wanted to duck into the bathroom and wait for someone else to get on line. Sighing, I accepted my fate. Maybe it wasn't my time to talk to Rosalie. My gaze traveled back to the board as I silently wondered what to pick up for Angela. The guy in front of me received his order and I stepped forward, still mulling over the many choices that were available. I'd forgotten to ask Ange if she was in one of her calorie counting moods or if she felt like splurging.

"Good morning, Emmett. What can I get you?"

I suddenly lost the ability to speak. My chest felt tight and my heart beat sped up as I forced myself to move my gaze from the menu board to the person who had spoken to me.

"Rosalie?"

"Good morning, Emmett." She smiled at me, biting her bottom lip. "Um, we have fresh blueberry muffins. I remember how much you liked those the last time."

"Uh, yeah, they were really good." My stomach felt like there was a pile of chains in it, weighing me down. My hands felt clammy and I struggled to speak before my nervousness completely took over as she stood there in front of me. "I'll take one for here and can you wrap one up? I'll take it back to Angela."

Her gaze traveled down to the counter. Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned Angela. "And what would you like to drink?"

I ordered a pumpkin spiced coffee and grabbed a seat while I waited for my order. Flipping through a copy of the local newspaper, I listened for my name to be called. Instead of hearing my name being called from the counter, I heard footsteps approach.

Glancing up, I caught Rosalie standing next to me, holding a tray overflowing with goods. Rising quickly, I caught Rosalie off guard and she stepped backwards, bumping into another customer. I reached out, one hand steadying the tray while the other gripped her upper right arm, touching her for the first time ever.

And it was no big deal.

No fireworks. No alarms. No electrical jolts.

It didn't matter. I didn't want to let her go, but I did anyway.

It only was because it looked as if she wanted to break down and cry. Not to mention we were in a public establishment. Her normally violet eyes were watery with tears. In a daze, my hand slowly slid down her arm until they reached her forearm.

"Here, let me help you with that." Not wanting to break contact, my fingers skimmed her bare skin, tracing a path that led to her hand before breaking contact. I took a plate with my muffin resting on it and a coffee cup that was next to it. "I'm sorry about startling you. Are you okay?"

"I'm okay, sorry for almost smashing into you." She examined the other coffee cup on the tray. "Wait, you've got mine, this is yours."

We both reached for the cup on the table and our fingers touched over the lid. Sadly, Rosalie pulled away first, rather quickly to my dismay. "Sorry, I'm not usually this klutzy," she apologized and handed me my cup. "I don't know what's gotten into me."

"Too much caffeine?" I reached for the cup on the table and placed it back on the tray, taking the other one left behind. "Thanks for bringing my stuff over. I didn't hear you call for me."

"Oh, I didn't." Balancing the tray with one hand, Rosalie picked up a bag and handed it to me. "This is your to-go order."

"Ah, yes, Angie's muffin." I reached out for the bag, my fingers brushing against hers. "Thanks."

There were other items on the tray Rosalie was balancing and I didn't want to hold her up. "Since when did you start bringing the food over?"

"Oh, we're not," she paused, her mouth slightly agape as she glanced at my table. "I'm on my break, do you mind if I join you?"

Would I mind? Only if I was insane. "Oh, no, not at all," I said. Or at least, that's what I tried to say. My words came out in one jumbled run on sentence so I sounded as if I was speaking another language.

"Klingon or Spanish?"

I started laughing. "What?"

"Can I join you?"

I nodded in response. "If you dare."

"Oh, I dare." She smiled mischievously at me.

Where did that come from? Shaking my head, I took Rosalie's tray from her and set it on the table. As we both sat down, I prayed my heart beat would calm down. My face was hot, and probably as red as it felt. Wondering what to say to the girl I had an unrequited crush on for the last six months, I took a long draw from my cup and savored the contents.

"Wouldn't your girlfriend like to have breakfast with you?" she asked, eyeing the bag next to me on the table.

"Girlfriend?" The bottom half of my muffin, which was aimed directly for my mouth, stopped mid-air. My stomach protested with an angry growl, which sounded like it was saying 'feed me.'

"Yeah, Angela, Angie, whatever she goes by." Her eyes were glued to the bag. "Wouldn't she rather have breakfast _with_ you?"

"She's not my girlfriend." Rosalie's head snapped up and her eyes met mine. "She's my assistant."

Those beautiful violet eyes widened surprised. "Assistant?"

My stomach started to protest again. I shoved half the muffin in my mouth and chewed quickly, then reached for my coffee, nodding before I could speak. "My assistant," I said. "I own McCarty Construction."

"Oh, I didn't know." She ducked her head and reached for her coffee.

When she placed her cup back down on the table, I reached out for her hand and brushed my fingers against hers. Where was my sudden burst of bravery coming from? "How were you supposed to know? We never got past first names."

Rosalie's gaze traveled to our hands. "It's always been about the weather or the news or just a quick hello."

I wondered why she was recapping the bulk of our conversations. Not wanting to push my luck, I removed my hand, although I would have been much happier lacing my fingers with hers.

I should have pushed my luck and held her hand, or said something else to her. Maybe ask her if she had a boyfriend. Instead, I attempted to innocently take another drag on my coffee at the exact same moment Rosalie spoke up.

"Emmett, would you be interested in going out sometime?"

I was so surprised at her question that I coughed and the coffee that had been in my mouth flew out at what could've been considered warp speed and landed all over Rosalie. Yes, I spit coffee all over the prettiest girl I'd ever seen. Brown droplets of coffee dripped from her face, hair, and shirt.

"Oh, no, Rosalie, I'm so sorry!"

The back of her hand wiped away the coffee at her mouth.

I realized that everyone was staring at us, but the sound of Rosalie's shaky voice jolted my attention back to her. "A simple 'no' would have sufficed." Her voice was low, barely audible as she looked down at her tan stained shirt.

"That's not what I meant!" Grabbing the napkins off the tray, I shoved them in her direction. "Are you okay? You're not burnt, are you?"

"No, the coffee was cooled down by the amazing velocity at which it was spit from your mouth before it met my face." She angrily grabbed the napkins out of my hand and dabbed her eyes clear. "Thanks for caring, Emmett."

Rosalie rose from her seat and ran toward the kitchen. With nothing more to lose, I chased after her. Mike saw me run past, but didn't attempt to stop me. I almost caught the swinging door in the face, and I would have deserved it, but I caught it and ducked inside. I spotted Rosalie rushing through another door and I followed after her.

"Hey, whatcha doing in here?" An older Italian gentleman with a heavy accent yelled. "You don'ta belong backa here!"

Ignoring him, I made a mad dash in the direction Rosalie had gone, finding myself in front of a door marked "Employees Only."

I knocked on it heavily, making sure she heard I was there. "Rosalie, it's Emmett. We need to talk."

"Haven't we spoken enough?" The building was old and the door was heavy. Her words were distant and hard to hear.

I knocked on the door again. "You better be decent!"

Opening the door, I found Rosalie standing in front of a locker, blotting the front of her shirt with the stack of napkins I'd given her. "You don't understand."

"Oh, I understood plenty!" She slammed the locker shut. "You didn't have to spit your coffee on me!"

I heard the door open up behind me. "Rosie, you needa me to get rida him? Yes? Is he-a bothering you? I shove-a my best wooden spoon where da sun don't shine!"

It was the first, and I hoped last time, in my life where someone had volunteered to sodomize me with a wooden object. I cringed.

"I don't swing that way," I said to no one in particular. "I just need to apologize to Rosalie."

"I'm fine, Guido." She said with a sigh.

"Okay, Miss Rosie, you just let-a me know if-a I can be of any service." He raised his wooden spoon in the air and shook it profusely before twisting it in a jabbing motion.

Not wanting to press my luck, I turned sideways, away from Guido. I had an overwhelming urge to cover my ass with my hands. He backed out of the door, shooting daggers at me. With one last jab of the spoon, the door shut on him relief washed over my entire being.

Until I gazed at Rosalie, who stood there with her eyes trained on me, appearing more sad then pissed off. "I am so sorry about spitting my coffee on you."

"You apologized." She said sternly. "You can leave."

I took a step forward. "I'm not finished."

"Do I need to call Guido back?"

"Oh, hell, no!" The memory of the spoon-wielding man made me squeeze my ass cheeks closed. "You surprised me when you asked me out."

"I won't make that mistake again." Sighing, she ran napkins over her hair.

Taking a chance, I stepped forward and took the napkins from her hands. I went over her hair, gently drying it as she stood there, giving me a death glare, her hands balled into tight fists.

"Was that the first time you've ever asked anyone out?"

"Yes," she whispered. "I thought you were different."

Spotting a few droplets of coffee on her cheek, I wiped them away. "I am." Tears had pooled in the corners of her eyes and a single drop spilled over, running down her cheek. "I am different." I gently brushed it away with my thumb and as I instinctively leaned closer to her, that was when she raised her fist and punched me in the stomach.

"Omph!" Rosalie could pack a punch! Clutching my stomach, I doubled over. "What was that for?"

"For being like the rest of them and saying you aren't!" She cried. "Why, Emmett?"

"You surprised me!" I defended myself. "I wanted to ask _you_ out!"

"I dared to put myself out there and then you reacted the way you did? If you're going to turn a girl down, at least be nicer about it!" Rosalie's eyes grew wide with surprise. "Wait, what did you say?"

Rubbing my stomach, I stood up straight. "If you'd let me explain, maybe you'd realize that I wanted to ask _you_ out. I've been so nervous around you. I didn't know if you'd be interested. Didn't know if you were dating anyone. I didn't know what you thought of me."

She reached out and touched my stomach where her fist had made contact. "I'm sorry that I punched you."

"I'm sorry that I spit coffee all over you."

In the movies, that was when the man leaned in close and kissed the girl, but that didn't happen. Instead, I asked Rosalie if she was still interested in spending some time with me. She said yes.

A few years later when I bent down on one knee and I asked her another question, she said yes again.

I reached out with my foot and set the rocking chair back in motion. The weight in my lap shifted and I glanced down. "Aren't you supposed to be asleep, Champ?"

"Daddy, what happened on your first date with Mommy?"

I caught a slight movement from the doorway in my peripheral vision. My wife leaned against the frame, her hands crossed across her chest. "If only our first date had gone as smoothly as your Daddy asking me out," she said sarcastically. "It's amazing neither one of us ended up in jail or with broken bones."

Our son laughed. "What did Daddy screw up?"

I ignored him for the time being. "Aren't you supposed to be asleep?"

"It's late and past your bedtime, EJ." Rosalie walked in and stood in front of us. "You're supposed to tell him a bedtime story to put him to sleep, not keep him awake," Leaning over, Rosalie whispered in my ear, her sweet breath tickling my skin as she removed our son from my lap.

Who knew the story of how badly I wanted to ask his mother out would entertain a six year old? I rose from the chair and pulled the covers back from EJ's bed. Rosalie placed him down and he snuggled deep into the blankets.

"'Night, Daddy." He had my dark hair and dimples, but his features were most definitely from his mother. Smiling, EJ reached up for me and I leaned down, placing a kiss on his forehead.

"Sleep well, Champ." I moved and waited at the foot of his bed, the sight of my wife and son bringing a smile to my face.

Rosalie sat down, tucked the covers tightly around him, and then kissed EJ on the cheek. "Snug as a bug in a rug."

"'Night, Mommy."

She pinched his nose lightly, eliciting a giggle from him. "We love you, EJ."

Our son yawned. "Love you, too."

Rosalie met me at the end of his bed and laced her fingers through mine. Hand in hand, we quietly made our way to exit. I clicked on his nightlight and as I was about to close the door, I heard my sons voice.

"What happened on your first date with Mommy?" He asked again with a yawn. I glanced over at Rosalie who had her lips drawn into a smile. "What did Daddy screw up?"

I squeezed my wife's hand and turned my attention back to Junior. "That story, my son, is for another evening."


	29. One Shot from Winterstale

**Name: **winterstale

**Title: **Lot

**Rating: **M

**Pairing: **Emmett and Rosalie

**Many thanks to LightStarDusting for her pre-read and some very kind hand-holding. Your girl Rosalie always takes me to some interesting places! ;)**

**Viola Cornuta beta'd this one as I wrote it and held on as it went somewhere we didn't think it was going. Thanks for the tandem beta, Tipps - you earned those purty banners on this one. We'll get back to Thriftway with Em and Ezzers for something a little sweeter someday soon, okay?**

**Thanks to AccioBourbon, TheHeartOfLife, and HMonster4 for their determined efforts to get the Dimpled One the attention he deserves. **

**All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters,**

**plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners.**

**No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without**

**their express written authorization.**

"_**Their sorrows shall be multiplied that hasten after another god: their drink offerings of blood will I not offer, nor take up their names into my lips.**_

_**The **__**Lord**__** is the portion of mine inheritance and of my cup: thou maintainest my lot.**_

_**The lines are fallen unto me in pleasant places; yea, I have a goodly heritage."**_

___** Psalm 16: 4-6**_

.~*~.

Esme Cullen glides the huge Suburban into a parking space with ease, even though she dislikes driving. Like so many activities of daily human life she would rather avoid, it is a necessary part of her family's elaborate façade, a trade-off. She understands compromise, understands her place within her family and how her actions set the tone for the young ones, how she helps her mate maintain balance and order. This clan of creatures he has created, and the ones he shelters, support something more than an endless cycle of feeding, battling, and ranging over territory. She believes in his philosophy, knows it is based on hundreds of years of observation and long dark times of self-revulsion. The very notion her mate has tried to destroy himself, questions his purpose and his worthiness of salvation in the eyes of God, makes her want to cling to him, putting soft words and sounds in his highly attuned ear. She just wants to make it alright for him, for all of them. For each one of her family, these other creatures the humans see as her children, she just wants them to find some measure of happiness in their existence. She knows the alternative, remembers it clearly from her human life as it was huge and bleak during her own moral moments. This life offers so much.

Still, she hates to drive.

Something about the practice just seems wrong to her. She was never allowed the operation of an automobile, was hardly granted permission to leave the shoddy bungalow she occupied with her human husband. and even though she appreciates Carlisle's unending trust, she still sometimes rankles at the errant notion that she is participating in a forbidden activity.

If Esme's support of their human mantles weren't so staunch, she would have allowed Emmett to drive. Often she does when they leave the town limits. He makes so much more sense in the driver's seat. His big, powerful limbs fit behind the wheel of the large sport-utility vehicle, and he maneuvers this machine with the ease of a man who understands how to use his hands and body at labor. Among other things, Emmett carried this with him from his human life. This man was born for hard work, his broad back and sturdy shoulders bred from countless generations of Scotch and Irish and even marauding Norse bloodlines for physical exertion. The energy coiled in his frame still hums at theready, as if to support long days of turning stony soil, coaxing life from amid the limestone and granite that littered the heavy loam of a family farm. She remembers farm boys well; once they were hulking Swedes and Germans whose vast families came to Ashland and a hundred villages just like it in Wisconsin and Minnesota, the Dakotas, too.As a human woman, a schoolmarm, she taught them as best she could in those precious days between fall harvest and spring planting, when their strength and hands were not required to support of their families' survival.

She glances around her, taking in the scene of humans parking their automobiles, gathering their possessions, and moving toward the row of businesses contained within the expanse of a squat steel-fronted, white building. Across the rows of vehicles she notices a lanky boy, close to the age Emmett is portraying here in their current home on the Olympic peninsula, exit the driver's side of a minivan that has seen better days, followed by an older woman's exit from the passenger site. Their relationship is easily apparent in their similar movements and appearance. Esme catches Emmett's eye and nods toward the pair making their way to the front door of Forks Outfitters'Thriftway.

"He looks eighteen or so, Emmett. Do you think it would be too noticeable if you drove in town? The humans seem not to question it."

Emmett smiles at her gently, a soft chuckle blooming in his resonant voice.

"I think it's okay. Youngsters run wild as bucks nowadays, Esme. Folks are more likely to question a teenage boy actually wanting to spend time with his mother."

"Oh… do you think? Is this wrong, now? Should I come on my own or maybe even send you and Alice?"

The panic rises quickly in her voice, her eyes wide. Just as Emmett has retained, even refined, his human ability to observe beasts, human or otherwise, and assess their next move, Esme carried on behaviors ingrained in her psyche. For her, however, the predisposition was not innate, as wasEmmett's. It was behavior learned over every year of her short human life,taught by impatient instructors with hard fists and rough voices that challenged the notion of protection inherent to the words 'father' and 'husband'.

Emmett sees the reaction begin to twist and knead at his sibling's psyche. Tucking her delicate hand in his far larger ones, eyes boring insistently into her hers, his eyebrow quivers slightly over a gentle smile. Their eyes remain focused in concert until Esme's small burst of unrest begins todissipate.

"It's alright, Esme." He says in a voice similar to one he used in another life on a skittish colt.

" 'Sides, you know Alice likes to play with them too much." This woman the humans only know as his mother, who in reality is a coven-mate, a sister of sorts, nods and a laugh like tinkling crystal follows her own soft smile.

"I wish Edward had never explained why these humans call her Morticia," she says, shaking her head. "She does love to play the loony."

Emmett joins in the quiet laughter and shrugs his shoulders. It never hurts the humans; in fact, the humans' wariness toward their quirky little sister serves the Cullens' purposes. Alice would never willinglyinjure a humanexcept in defense of her adopted clan, or her beloved Jasper. Sometimes Alice's ability to love, given what Edward has heard in the human thoughts that manage to roam through her psyche, yet are still silent somehow to her, makes Emmett feel hugely, oppressively sad.

He sets it aside, exits the black Suburban, and moves with a practiced amble toward his 'mother's' door, opening it for her. This insistence on gentlemanly behavior probably makes him seem more unusual to the humans, but it is a trait he won't give up. Esme taught Emmett many things when he was just turned, among those how to read and write, but he values her lessons on manners and deportment almost more than any other. With her help, he learned to soften his accent, when to suppress his ready laughter, and how to behave among vampires who might have done their mortal work with minds rather than sweat and grit. All of these habits areuseful occasionally, especially when things just get a bit heavy and close to going round the bend, _real damn quick. _Emmett knows his own vampiric emotions are unreliable, keeps them in check with a strength of will that only his coven-brother Jasper can really understand. There is a silent agreement between the two men, each one knowing if… _when_ the time comes, when a decision must be made to end it in order to protect the Cullen family, the scarred and wary vampire will be the one who will give aid, unflinching and never questioning sacrifice for the greater good.

"Alright, _Mom_, let's do this," Emmett drawls in the manner of contemporary children as Esme drops gracefully from the high-seated passenger compartment. If she were human, she would have to clamber awkwardly fromsuch a vehicle, just like the suburban women they see in Seattle when Alice insists on a hunting trip of her own kind. Nordstrom, Neiman Marcus, Saks. Alice likes nice things, wants to make a modern fairy-tale around her. She never had soft, pinkpinafores or a child's play-pretties as a human girl. Emmett doesn't mind. She's such a sweet, determined but broken little thing, even if she's got a gleefully wicked streak a mile long.

Besides, Emmett has experience with broken things. He's been trying to put broken things back together for seventy-some years. Sometimes the pieces are just too damaged to fit right, ever again.

Both vampires are consummate actors, as are all of their kind. These immortals have every advantage: enchanting voices and physical presence, an aura of power and intelligence that insists to the very beings they might hunt and feed on that these pale, graceful, almost achingly perfect beings must be paid attention, even adored with pilgrim-like reverence. Esme and Emmett affect their human performances almost as second nature when their senses tell them humans are near, noticing, watching.

Emmett begins the scene as he knows Esme prefers to work from his lead.

"I don't know why we have to do this, Mom," he grumbles, just a bit too loudly as his hands find his pockets and his head dips toward the collar of his designer sweatshirt. He's grateful that the fashions of the day lend themselves to large, unrestrictive shirts and jeans like he wears now. It is much more comfortable than the ridiculous clothing he bound his large frame into in the early sixties, less ostentatious than the horrifying and lurid clothing he was forced to wear as that decade turned to the nineteen seventies. Alice insisted, telling him he had to fit in among the children at the local, ever-interchangable high school. He sensed others, human and vampire, looking at his appearance like some pathetic comedic sidekick; a bear juggling or a dog on a high-wire.

"Edward has made a _new friend_, Emmett. I'm looking forward to meeting her," Esme replies, her eyes twinkling. Although this exchange is carefully crafted for public consumption, the two vampires enjoy their public banter. Sometimes the exchanges between the two take on an air harmless flirtation as they undertake their human tasks together. Emmett is skilled at double entendre, often pushing Esme to the point of hysterical laughter with the most innocent-sounding of comments. Both vampires love to laugh and do it freely when Emmett's yoke loosens. Esme knows he appreciates – _needs_ - these moments of freedom and feeling useful feeds her own soul. "Now, we'll need some pasta, sage, ummmm….- ….something to drink. What _does _this young lady like to drink?"

"I dunno… like I care." The response drips with teenage boy affectation. Emmett nudges at the wheel of the shopping cart Esme has selected. As they talk, humans rush into the grocery store around them, drawn to and repelled by the sight of these impossibly beautiful pale creatures. Evelyn Cope passes the pair, pausing to watch and eavesdrop as she pretends to inspect a package of Oreos.

_There's something not right about those Cullens… like some sort of cult…all together, but brothers and sisters and parents barely out of school themselves. My ass that Doctor is just some Good Samaritan…oh, fudge-dipped, buy one get one free…_

"Well, you must have noticed something about her, dear."

"She was drinking lemonade once in the cafeteria."

The entire family knows about lemonade. The scent of artificial lemon flavoring and plastic, along with a weaker floral smell, has clung to Edward since the day he came home with the lid from a lemonade container. Emmett and Jasper have turned it into a joke, filling Edward's personal space with lemons, his prized Volvowith cases of the same drink, even peppering their conversations with references to the color and scent of the fruit. Esme sorts a tiny laugh and shakes her head slightly at her coven-brother. Usually these practical jokes shake Edward from his morose moods, bringing out the laughing, light-hearted side of the paradoxically eldest and youngest of Carlisle's offspring. Baseball, wrestling, music, chess – all that would bring a smile to Edward's face, make him leave behind his moral wrangling and seemingly unending loneliness – these activities no longer soothe him. The clan knows the solution is simple; Alice has assured them all, privately, it _will_ happen, regardless of how, and will be much safer for everyone if Edward doesn't try to evade fate.

As Emmett ambles down the aisle marked 'Pasta' among other related foodstuffs, he considers what Alice has told him as they hunted together just days before. Edward had returned home that evening, absolutely reeking of human, _that_ human - the town police chief's daughter, which added another layer of irony not lost on any of Carlisle's clan. Edward paced and snorted, rubbed the denim covering his thighs to threads, and finally vaulted through one of the wide expanses of plate glass that opened the expansive family roomto the verdant Hoh Rainforest that sheltered it. Jasper and Carlisle followed, leaving Emmett to control Rosalie.

Since Isabella Swan's appearance and Edward's subsequent battles with his attraction to her, an air of placid acceptance has settled on most of the Cullens. Alice's visions are never incorrect, even if they begin somewhat disjointed. Like a cat's cradle, each thread of decision making falls into place, revealing the _deus ex machina_ that will descend and set this clan on a new path. As Emmett studies the choices of pasta… _Fettucine? Linguini? Rotini?... _his eyes fall on one variety that almost erases his bouyant spirits: _Capelli d'angelo... _Angel Hair.

The word angel has become something of a marker for his existence since he was a young vampire. He believes, or insists, he was carried into immortality by one; the memory of it is the only one his shock-wearied mind can recall from his final human moments. As he lay on the damp forest floor that day, much closer to Walnut Bottom and Mt. Guyot than he intended, his final prayers rose in the ice-laced March wind, his voice thready and choked with deep shivers from blood loss and exposure. Emmett McCarty knew his end was near, understood it was time to make his peace with life and love cut too short from a simple hunting trip gone horribly wrong.

He'd headed east from his family's modest Greenbrier farm, noting the dense lead-gray clouds moving from the north as the cold wind lifted his sable-colored curls from his forehead. Late winter in the Appalachian Mountains was changeable; one day balmy with sunshine and southern winds, the next bring heavy, wet snow that brought down roofs and split-rail fences with ease. The afternoon of March 5, 1935, appeared to be just this sort of day.

As he hiked deeper into the Smoky Mountains, crossing the middle fork of the Pigeon River just beyond the McCarty farmlands, Emmett noticed the temperature dropping quickly. He huddled his body upon itself, stretching the well-worn wool of his father's well-worn and patched coat around his shoulders. The forest floor was often damp, due to the thick canopy of ancient hardwoods and ever-present humidity that gave the Smokies their name. As the elevation rose and the air turned frigid, Emmett lost his footing several times on ice-slicked dead leaves. Once he found a fresh set of deer tracks, good sized ones, he changed direction, following the animal with practiced stealth of anexperienced hunter on his own large feet. He saw the buck cross the top of a ridge, no more than fifty feet from him and downwind. It was a good-sized buck, six points, and Emmett could just make the male deer out through the lofty flakes of the now-falling spring snow. With careful field dressing and the strength of his broad back, he would just be able to shoulder the deer back to his own home. He raised his rifle, moving with practiced stillness, sliding shells into the twin barrels of his Grandfather Emmett's twelve gauge as his index finger deliberately, carefully, disengaged the safety. The worn wooden stock found home easily, braced against a solid shoulder; a clear blue eye tensed as it found the middle of the button sight atop the blackened steel of the twin barrels. Powerful legs and sturdy feet planted deeper into the layers of frosted and decaying hardwood leaves. His breath paused, heart rate slowed, every intention and voluntary movement in his body now dedicated to achieving a clear shot at the buck who nudged, unaware, at spring shoots between the past autumn's now mulched litter. As his index finger rested, ready, on the trigger, his left hand fell as it had done hundreds of times on the polished wooden pump mechanism, ready to reload should his shot fail.

The moment his family's sustenance turned toward him, revealing a clear shot at the animal's broad chest, Emmett's index finger reacted, squeezing hard, his body tensed automatically anticipating the hard recoil from the powerful rifle. In the next seconds, sounds of a soft human grunt, a clang from a spent shell, a weighty thud and the rifle's report echoed through the deep ravine. Instinct and experience once again served Emmett McCarty well. He saw the buck's legs thrash several times, sending a shower of decaying leaves and dirt into the air, followed by several plumes of labored breath. Then, silence.

As Emmett shouldered his grandfather's rifle, he began his ascent of the incline, swinging his lengthy frame over fallen trees and stepping from granite boulders, now dark with the wet of falling snow. He stepped surely around a thatch of laurels, using a low-hanging branch to steady himself as he propelled his body onto the flat surface of a granite outcropping some four feet above him. What Emmett could not see, in fact what was impossible to know as he thrust well over two hundred pounds and six and a half feet toward the top of the rock shelf, was a solid skim of black ice. Just as he made purchase on the ledge, his foot slid away from him, knocking him backward, legs splaying wildly over his head as his hands reached for the limb he had just grasped. Nothing but air passed through his arms, and he spiraled through space, clutching blindly as he fell. Emmett landed hard, heard, then felt a sickening crunch of bone as his body made contact with another large, ice-covered rock. The impact of his head on stone echoed through the quiet landscape.

He was unconscious for several hours, woken by the sound of soft bleating as a warm, wet nose pressed against his cheek.

Emmett opened his eyes warily, wincing at the hoary light assaulting his dilated pupils. Momentarily, he was distracted from the sense of a small animal's curious nudging around his snow-dusted neck and shoulder. His thigh radiated waves of throbbing pain through his body under an oddly taut, sticky sensation spreading over the skin there. In one overwhelming, defeated moment, he realized he was not only hobbled by a broken and mangled leg, but the scent of his and the felled buck's blood on the air had drawn the attention of a black bear cub.

Black bears, the species native to the Southern Appalachian mountains, were not the emboldened creatures in 1935 that subsequent years of adaptation to humans' encroachment on wilderness habitats has produced. Unlike their much larger and far more aggressive cousins, the Grizzly bear indigenous to the western United States, these creatures normally avoided humans, would not attack unless threatened repeatedly. The males were the most reclusive of the species as is often the case with large predators. Females, however, were known to be territorial and particularly prone to attack in defense of their cubs.

A female, the mother of the cub, had scented him as well.

The next moments, even with the recall of a vampire, seem hazy to Emmett, like a play with characters that resemble those he knows intimately but acted behind a scrim in shadow and light.

He knows he did his best to defend himself, remembers the hot sluice of blood from the female bear's throat as his hunting knife sunk into her neck and arrested another inquisitive bite at his bloodied leg. He knows the pain was unlike any he had felt in his human life, knows even as he battled for self-preservation, he was reciting the 13th Psalm and understood this was his shadowy valley of death.

He also knows he was saved by a woman whose pale hair and flowing dress swirled around her in the bitter wind. His human form lurched from the rock ledge with force so great he could only comprehend it as other-worldly, as he was without a frame of reference for what was happening to him. This faintly glimmering being lifted him easily, improbably, and propelled him through the forest at a speed so jarring his organs shifted inside his body. He retched violently as he recoiled against the sensation of speed.

His battered mind lost consciousness. The next moments were a battle of sorts, keeping him in limbo; his body was weak from shock, blood loss, and trauma, but his mind, soul, the essence of what Emmett McCarty was beyond his physical self held firm. Too many threads, large and small, bound him mentally to the physical world to make release easy. It did come as Carlisle Cullen's venom burned through Emmett's body, one artery, vein, and capillary at a time. Those human tethers did not unravel and dance on the wind in the newborn vampire's recollection; they seared mercifully, leaving Emmett no memories but of the bear and the woman who found him.

Emmett considers his own transformation, then thinks of Edward's little human mate. He likes Isabella Swan a great deal already, enjoys the sounds of the brave girl sparring his quixotic brother in verbal foreplay that rises over the other voices in the high school cafeteria. Above all, Emmett wants his brother to find a measure of peace after so many of the clan's years together spent in periods of outright conflict and the tense doldrums between them. A tacit understanding between Edward and Emmett has always been in place, even during the times when Emmett struggled to acquiesce to the more urbane lifestyle his coven affected. In ways they can never discuss, Edward feels a profound gratitude to hisbrother. Rosalie Hale carried Emmett's broken body back to the Cullen home that bitterly cold March evening, but in many ways he has carried his family since.

Ambling toward the scent of his coven-sister, the vampire, who appears the most threatening to adults and conversely appeals to almost every child he encounters, scrubs at his face twice much as the human he was would have done when faced with an unpleasant thought or task. After close to eighty years as an immortal, Emmett has become more articulate about his own mind, even though he has always understood it. It makes sense to him that thoughts of his past are invading these menial but relished tasks that today take him away from the Cullens' home. He understands why Alice and Jasper's arrival six decades ago turned his own existence from a flaming and doomed projectile hurtling toward hard-packed Earth. He has survived because of them, these Whitlocks who see and feel more than the rest, has hoped Rosalie would survive intact as well.

When his eyes opened on Ash Wednesday, 1935, Emmett took in the scene around him with a mixture of fascination and fear. Three figures - one woman, two men - stood around remnants of the single bed that bore him. The elder, if that were possible, of the three looked on with reassuring smiles not unlike those of a parent. The third, a younger and far more reticent male, watched warily, positioned between Emmett and a fourth figure seated in a far corner of the room and reading. That body shifted, revealing an improbably beautiful face, its proportions in exquisite symmetry. High cheekbone, delicately arched brow, sublimely furled lash and aqualine nose came into Emmett's view, followed by full lips that suddenly opened and spilled a nectar-sweet voice into the too still room.

Too quiet. Not a sound. Not even a _breath. _

"_Oh," the seated woman said in the same tone she might use to ask for a new broom at the general store. "You're awake."_

_The boy between them stepped to the side, not out of courtesy but in an obvious attempt at observation. Emmett watched the scene unfold with morbid curiosity, still unaware he was as much part of the tableau as the other players. As the blond woman came into full view, his perception skewed, not unlike a reflection in a fun-house mirror. This extraordinary creature who had just spoke so ordinarily to him, as though she had waited for him to awaken hundreds of times before, was dressed in a filthy, mud spattered, gore covered wedding dress. She looked to him steadily, passive, maybe mocking him slightly, then fluffed the rent hem of the white satin dress and let it fall around her crossed ankles. _

_Before he commanded it, he found his body springing from the rubble of broken bed frame, goose-down and wire. Just as quickly, the two men were in front of him, laboring mightily to push Emmett away from that dress and the enticing scent that waved from it as the woman shook it again demurely over her grimy foot._

"_Rosalie!" hissed the other female over her shoulder as she slid into place between the two men restraining him."If you're going to taunt Emmett, just go outside."_

"_I don't know why_ I _should be asked to leave. _That_ looks like it's unfit to sleep in the barn, much less _my_ room," the woman called Rosalie answered with barely concealed disdain._

"_Yes, well, _you_ brought this home, and _you _wanted to keep it four days ago." The younger of the two men snarled - quite literally snarled as if he were an agitated cougar - at the seated woman. _

"_Edward, I don't think that will help now," the elder man interjected as he pushed his full frame against Emmett's larger, struggling one._

"_All of you, enough. He can hear you." __The third person standing, the other female,__ turned to him, smiling warmly over the shoulders of the men called Edward and Carlisle. "Hello," she began in a voice that rivaled Rosalie's in its harmonic timbre. "Emmett, my name is Esme, and I'd wager this must all seem quite unreal to you..."_

That part always makes Emmett laugh to himself when he looks back on it. _Unreal._ That was the seed of it, at least. The rest has been eighty years of quakes and aftershocks, seductive quiet and full-on gales of drama all created at the hands of the woman who brought him to immortal life.

Esme is speaking with the butcher as Emmett approaches her. This is perhaps the most unappealing part of interacting with humans. The smell of their long-dead, decaying food is almost enough to make a vampire physically ill.

"No, not bacon," she is telling the befuddled man behind the refrigerated case full of dead cow flesh. _"Proscuitto."_ Esme repeats it slowly but still in a perfect Umbrian accent.

"Miz Cullen, I told you - no _Prus-kewto._ We've got uncured bacon. Closest thing between here and Seattle."

Emmett feels Esme's ire radiating from her. She is desperate to make everything perfect for Edward and his as yet unacknowledged mate. He needs this. The entire clan needs this, needs Isabella Swan and all of her human foibles and endearing little fragilities so desperately, they all must be perfect in their roles.

"Mom, it's the same thing as bacon, just get it an' let's go. The Sonics game is on in forty-five, daaaammmnnnn."

The heel of Esme's Ferragamo pump grinds into the arch of Emmett's foot, even as she struggles to contain a laugh. Sometimes, he is too good at his role.

"Emmett, if you want to get home to see your baseball -"

"Basketball, Mom... it's _basketball_. The Sonics? Basketball."

"Yes, fine... basketball. If you want to get home in time for your _basketball match_, please go over to produce and pick up some fresh sage and eight red apples."

Emmett can barely contain the snorting, resonant laugh from rippling through his broad chest as he slumps his shoulders and stalks toward the scent of rotting fruits and vegetables._ Basketball match._ Esme manages to look and sound older just by donning sensible clothing and appearing entirely clueless about contemporary culture, often with hilarious results.

Just as he passes a display of nuts that reek of dust and rat dung, Emmett's phone rings noisily, sending out a jarring chorus of the discordant contemporary music he hates but tolerates as part of his facade.

"What up?" he answers in a tone just loud enough to be irritating to the humans perusing oranges and organic mixed greens.

"She needs _fresh_ sage."

"I heard her, _dew-drop_." Emmett's irritation at the prospect of figuring out exactly what fresh sage is, much less attempting to locate it, abates at the sound of Alice Whitlock's voice.

"Just keeping you focused, _Brutus_. Look along the wall, between the packages of carrots - the orange root vegetables? - and the plastic trays of fruit."

"What's up?" he repeats, this time much quieter and like his own natural voice.

"We've fed 'Herself'. Two elk and a feral tomcat."

"Nice," he sighs. "Where did you find the cat?"

"In town." Alice is evasive, and Emmett catches the whispered 'damn'.

"Where _in town_, Alice?"

"Um... it really is okay, Emmett. No damage done, and Jasper calmed her down right sharpish. Promise."

"Port Angeles?"

Alice is silent for several seconds, then huffs a little.

"Yes. She is okay, I helped her, and... oh, Em, I'm sorry, but she's brought a couple of dresses home. I tried to reason with her -"

"Reason?" Emmett laughs humorlessly as he selects a package of gray-green sage leaves from the display of fresh herbs. "Might as well wish in one hand, shit in the other..."

"Vulgar..." Alice snorts over her giggles, then her voice softens. "I'm so sorry, Em. She just got away from us."

"Don't worry about it. It was bound to happen eventually. Es - _Mom _- is finishing up here, and we'll be home?" The implied question in his voice is clear only to her, not to Tyler - _not Florence, that's the one on Food Network where Esme got this meal idea - what __is__ this school child's last name?_- who is evaluating pears in the next aisle with feigned nonchalance, storing up Cullen sightings for tomorrow's cafeteria gossip.

"You don't have to come home now. It's really okay." Alice's tone is reassuring, sweet. Emmett's always alert nerves stand down slightly, and he resumes his human tone.

"Cool. Awww-ight… later, _Squirt_."

"Emmett McCarty, I'm going to tie you to the Deschutes Bridge, you disgusting cretin!"

"Bring it."

"Oh it's gonna be _brought-en_!"

"You watch too many movies." Emmett chuckles, then snaps his phone shut.

Once again, his hand passes over his face and he inhales sharp and quick, enough to startle the high school boy so much he backs into Evelyn Cope's shopping cart. Behind him, Emmett hears a muttered apology, a comment about something called Oreos.

His thoughts are elsewhere, in 1942. They were in Alaska then, a regular stop on their peregrinations, to live for a time with the Denali coven.

As Emmett adjusted to his new circumstances, he grew curious about the diffident and reclusive Rosalie. She always hunted with Edward, never spoke to anyone but him at length. Her hostility toward Carlisle was barely contained, at times blossoming without warning into a ferocious assault that only Emmett's considerable strength could curtail. As awkward as these times were, he found that he genuinely enjoyed the presence of the three other Cullens and, as Emmett had no memory of his before-life, grew into an easy rapport with them after some adjustment.

His first interaction with other vampires happened during that early winter of 1942. Using the state of shock over the United States' sudden entry into war and the resulting call to arms for the three men as a cover, the clan moved from Hoquaim, Washington, to the remote Alaskan wilderness. The 'family' he met there - four women and a male - were much older than any of Carlisle's coven, and fascinated both Emmett and Edward. The two males listened to stories of wars they had only read about, people who were little more than plaster busts in museums to these twentieth-century immortals. As their isolation from humans and interaction with the ancient vampires eased them into a sense of familiar comfort, the Cullens, even Rosalie, relaxed.

"_You're going to ruin that nice wool shirt, you know." _

_The voice startled Emmett so much he turned toward it, allowed the enraged Grizzly pinned under his knee a fierce retaliatory swipe at his exposed back. A mingled rip of merino wool and inhumanly metallic screech told Emmett the shirt was nothing but a memory now. He gaped at her as she moved, glided almost, toward him and blindly caught the snapping jaws of the bear between his arm and torso. The bear's neck was snapped easily in the makeshift vice of Emmett's body, and forgotten just as quickly because although Grizzly-wrestling was challenging, Rosalie Hale was a mystery __who__ had just invited herself to dinner._

_She sat on a boulder, still looking at him intently with a soft smile. _

"_If you bring it to me, I'll patch it up for you. We might not be able to get another for a while with the rationing. I do remember Esme having some difficulty locating the appropriate size for you before the humans' war."_

_Emmett never considered his size before that moment. It was something that just... was. _

"_Does it bother you?" he blurted before he could consider how forward he sounded. "Y'know, me being so big and all?"_

"_Yes, I'm afraid it does." Rosalie answered, matter-of-fact. "You had the most lovely little boy's face that day. Everything else was covered by that black bear, and of course I was quite thirsty with all of that blood around. But your face... so angelic." She laughed to herself a little, then turned her face toward the milky winter sunlight. "It was all I saw, you see. Had I known... well, I'm so terribly sorry I've done this to you." _

_Emmett stepped over the Grizzly's corpse and moved slowly toward Rosalie, as his human shadow once moved toward a little dog who had been caught under wagon wheels at his family's farm._

"_No need for apologies, Miss Rosalie. I like my life fine." His voice was low, music in its own right just as hers, but more like a well-used cello than the bright staccato notes from a flute._

"_Yes," she replied, considering him with a dispassionate flick of her eyes. "Yes, I can see that. I'm glad for you." She smiled slightly and turned to the sun again._

_Emmett's eyebrows gathered together, and he scratched absentmindedly at the back of his neck._

"_Miss Rosalie, may I ask something of you?"_

"_Yes, I suppose."_

"_Why don't you care for our life?"_

_Her face turned to his, a thousand crevasses of anguish opened and closed before he was entirely certain he'd seen them. As her chin lifted and shoulders squared, her pale amber eyes, purposefully placid, met his._

"_Because, you see, Mr. McCarty, I wanted to die."_

It would be months before Emmett managed to quilt together some manner of truth from Rosalie, and even then her insistence on a propriety irrelevant to the way humans communicated with each other kept some details from him. He inferred the rest. Emmett wasn't stupid.

She found him occasionally, during those early Denali years, and eventually they fell into a kind of acquaintance. His humor, much more gentle with Rosalie and never directed at her, won the day for him as it usually did. Often her laughter came from little stories he told her about himself, usually a comedy of manners in which he scripted himself as a befuddled yokel finding his way among 'town people' or a fearless man of the wilderness, taking on all manner of monumental challenge with their coven-brother Edward at his side.

_One spring afternoon in 1946, he had just completed such a tale and was rewarded with a full peal of girlish laughter and applause that disarmed him, as he'd never seen the like from her._

"_Oh goodness, Mr. McCarty, you are some comedian! How do you manage to find all of these little details so quickly and add them to these stories of yours?"_

"_Awww... now. They aren't stories, Miss Rosalie. It all happened, evert' last bit." Emmett's eyes twinkled still with his softening laughter, and he turned a flirtatious dimpled grin toward Rosalie._

_She shook her head at him over her own knowing smile. _

"_Yes, I do believe you would cast yourself as Paul Bunyan himself and our Edward as Babe the Blue Ox if we allowed it." _

_They laughed again, this time quietly, almost to themselves. It felt much more intimate to Emmett, as though it held some __hint__ of __promise__._

"_Emmett," Rosalie began, halting, appeared to convince herself of something, and continued. "Yes, Emmett... I am so grateful to you for being so kind to me."_

_This new familiarity surprised him, turned him suddenly shy at the sound of his given name on her voice. _

"_Well...ah...Miss Rosalie, you're easy t'be kind to when you let a man." _

"_Yes, hmmm..." She focused intently on the grass beneath her, inspecting a tiny yellow flower among the sprouts of green._

_He noticed just how close they were, how their shoulders were within inches of each other's and wondered how it might be to kiss her then, nothing more than a slight brush of his lips across hers, barely closing the space between their mouths. Without further thought, he did just that. For one, possibly two moments, she seemed to lean toward him, her fingers splayed rigid across the new spring grass and moving closer to his own. Emmett heard himself sigh a little and didn't care how it sounded, was finally _glad to give credenceto the attraction he felt for the _woman beside him, so unlike the _bedraggled MissHavisham who looked _upon_ him with disdain ten years before. Edward had a vast library, and Great Expectations was Emmett's favorite.

"_Rosie..." he whispered against her lips, and came forward with a tiny increase in pressure. Instead of willing softness waiting for him, Emmett was confounded to find a hard, thin line. A smart crack across his cheek followed before he could process the change._

"_What did you call me?" Rosalie snarled as she pushed away from him, scuttling backward on the grass. "Get away from me, you disgusting hillbilly."_

_Emmett was speechless, unable to reply amid his shock at her change in behavior and mortification at the insult hurtled at him. _

"_You have no right." She toned toward him, flat, icy and merciless with it. "You... you have no right to even..." her body shook with a kind of murderous rage he'd never encountered. The sight of it left him mentally spinning, reaching for something to break his fall, just like eleven years before on the day she found him. "How dare you even consider... me? You think you have the right to touch _me_?"_

"_Miss Rosalie, wait..." Emmett held his hands up in __entreaty__, his face full of earnest confusion. "I-I... I thought - please, Miss Rosalie, I thought you might want to... I thought I might like to..." His hand wiped at his face in frustration and he growled at the sensation of being uncomfortably strapped for words. "I'm so sorry," he said finally, sitting back heavily on his heels. _

"_Please refrain from such liberties again, Mr. McCarty." Rosalie pressed her hair into place as her chin tilted in defiance. "If it happens again, I'll have no choice, but to speak to Mr. King."_

"_Who?" Emmett asked, his voice soft with dread._

"_My husband, Mr. McCarty. Your employer, Mr. King."_

_Before he thought better of it, Emmett reached for Rosalie, his hand closing gently around her wrist. _

"_Miss Rosalie," he whispered as though she were a distraught child. "There is no Mr. King. It's me...Emmett. We're here in Alaska, at Tanya and Katrina's house, visitin'. You remember?"_

"_Don't speak to me of whores, Mr. McCarty. And don't come one step closer to me, or I'll have you arrested for indecency toward a married woman!" _

_Her scream still echoed across the valley after she was g__one. Emmett paused for a moment, and then the full meaning of her words fell together like a solid oaken __drawbridge__ closing in a fortress under attack._

"_He did it to her," Emmett muttered to himself. "Oh, God damn, he did it."_

_He sprinted after Rosalie, calling to her, to Edward, Esme, Carlisle, even Tanya and Katrina as the venom rose like bile in his throat. _

"_Emmett, what have you done?" Edward raced toward him from the front of the long cabin the family shared, his face drawn in shades of horror and fury. He caught the larger man by the collar, and they spun wildly, ripping fabric and spraying mud careening away from the two vampires._

"_Edward... what the hell happened to that woman?" Emmett screamed over his brother's accusation. He was furious now, suddenly aware that he had __gleaned__ only part of the story and never really understood just how fragile Rosalie was. Behind them, a car skidded to a halt, Esme and Tanya its occupants._

"_Emmett, Edward is faster. She's heading toward Anchorage. This happened once before you joined us, she seeks out humans." Esme said, her voice deathly calm. "Get in, Emmett. I'll tell you everything." _

_Edward was little more than a flash over the nearest ridge before Emmett could seat himself in the Land Rover. Tanya gunned the vehicle, and they started their descent toward the nearby logging road, the military-grade vehicle lurching perilously over little more than gravel-covered Moose paths. _

"_Emmett, dear..."_

"_Who is Mr. King? Just tell me that for starters, then we'll cover this other..." he snorted hard and shook his head, willing himself to focus and ignore the instinctual pull urging him to attack something, anything, and turn it to splinters. "This other mess."_

"_Royce King was her fiancé."_

"_Alright, that I've got. And I suspect he was the one who… well, you know." Emmett nodded deferentially toward the two women__._

"_Yes, Emmett, Royce King attacked her, and yes, he did have his way with her. Horribly so, Emmett and not just him. He was drunk, and in the company of several others who had been drinking as well..."_

"_They all – all of them?" He choked on the words, the notion of it unimaginable._

"_Yes, I'm afraid so." Esme said quietly. "Carlisle found her in such a horrendous state. Blood, broken teeth, and her lovely face so damaged. The bones in her cheek were shattered, she was beyond help…he would have fixed her, Emmett. Carlisle remembered because of me and…it seemed so wrong, like such a horrific thing to do to this beautiful young girl and just a waste. I'd seen her speak to Edward once or twice when we went to town... well, Carlisle had her there, and Edward was hunting or we..." Tanya's hand slid around Esme's, squeezing it slightly. "Had Edward been there we could have stop__ped it. He would have heard her thoughts. All we heard those first hours were her screams."_

_The finality of Esme's dejected words hit Emmett so profoundly he was silenced and remained so as Tanya pushed the Land Rover to its limit through agonizing hours toward Anchorage. Once within the town limits, they rolled down the windows, following Edward's scent as they drove toward the city center. He appeared suddenly before the vehicle, Tanya narrowly missing him as he cleared the front tires at a speed completely unnatural for his human cover._

"_I lost her," he said as he cast a steely glare at the throng of shoppers going about their afternoon affairs. "Too many of them... I can't take much more of them."_

"_I know where she is." Emmett stood on the pavement, ushering Edward toward the interior with an outstretched hand. " You go on with the ladies. I set her off. I'll see to her." A look passed between the two, then Edward nodded slightly, his weary relief pinching slightly at the corners of his turned his attention to the ginger-haired woman at the wheel. " Tanya, where is the nearest place to buy a wedding dress?"_

_Emmett loped away from the other vampires, his shoulders set with purpose. She gave him his immortal life. He would guard Rosalie, and his family, through hers. _

_Even after eleven years away from the mountains of Tennessee, Emmett still found department stores unsettling, not just because of the proximity to humans, but the small spaces and fine things that seemed too breakable and likely to crash around his big body. His innate ability to discern a situation was correct. Rosalie's scent meandered without reason around the racks of clothing and finery, leading him eventually to the third floor and a quiet alcove awash in white lace, glinting sequin, and shimmeringsatins. There, on a small platform, before a semi-circle of mirrors, stood Rosalie, resplendent in a dress crafted entirely of delicately beaded lace._

_She saw his approach as she caught his scent and raised wary eyes to him._

"_Hey, there. Don't you look beautiful?" Emmett said steadily as he slowed his movements and turned his hands out and away from his body, appearing as docile as possible. Even with her vampiric pallor, Rosalie's cheeks shone faintly as she smiled at his easy and charming speech. "Yeah, I'd say you are a sight to see."_

"_Oh now, Henry, you know it is bad luck for you to be here!" she giggled and made to shoo him away. "My dress is meant to be a surprise, you goose!"_

_Emmett let a broad smile stretch across his face, ducked his head a little as though he were shy over her._

"_Now, sweetheart, you know I don't care about any old dress. The surprise already came - you told me yes." _

_Rosalie let herself fall from the carpeted dias into his outstretched arms, giggling like a happy young woman. The way she should have been. _

_Behind them, a polite cough interrupted them; a petite woman came into view in the mirror._

"_Pardon me - " she began, unsure of the scene and most likely what had gone before. Emmett turned to her, his arm still around Rosalie's waist._

"_Hello, ma'am. My name is Emmett Cullen, and I do believe my mother Esme keeps an account with you. If you'll just set my girl here up with all she needs for our wedding, we'll be on our way."_

Emmett looks down at his hand and realizes he has forgotten Esme's other request. Apples. Red. Eight of them, the little joker asked for. He rolls his eyes at her joke and begins to count out pieces of the fruit into a plastic bag. Just as he reaches for the final apple, a small hand snakes around his arm, claiming the juggernaut that keeps the carefully stacked apples on the slanted display. A shower of red-skinned globes falls around his feet and extracts a peal of giggles behind him. He turns, chuckling, and finds a tow-headed little girl before him, her hand over her mouth in a futile attempt to stem her laughter.

"Oops," she says, her long eyelashes dancing closed over crystalline-blue eyes.

"Oops," Emmett nods, laughing along with her. He crouches before her and begins to scoop up the remnants of the the toppled display. "You swiped my apple." he says with a wink.

"Uh-huh..._my_ apple." The lift of her chin, the unabashed challenge of it as the blue eyes widen at him in consternation makes him laugh even more. The sound fills the space they are in, infects her with another round of giggles. Suddenly, the child's brows knit together, and she thrusts a piece of fruit toward Emmett. The scent is overpowering, and he struggles not to recoil at the assault to his sense of scent. "Oh noooo..." she turns her hand so he can see the white flesh underneath the broken skin. Sickly sweet juice drips over her tiny hand and down her wrist to the floor beneath them. She looks up to Emmett again, wide-eyed and repentant as only a small child can be. "I broke it."

"Ashley!" a panicked voice calls out behind them. "What have you - " The speaker, obviously the girl's mother, stops. Emmett senses her wariness at the sight of him, almost as if he can smell the prickles of fear this woman feels at the sight of her daughter so close to such a huge, somehow just-not-right, man. "Come here this instant!" she barks, too loud, too full of protective warning. The little girl stands still, begins to tremble with looming tears.

"Mommy, I'm sorry. I just wanted the apples like the man had 'cause they're so pretty, and I like the red ones and not the stripey ones you get, but I broke it." Her sobs crest and spill over, alerting the other shoppers to the scene.

"Hey, it's okay. Here," Emmett whispers to the girl, his voice bending just a bit closer to his vampire's melody as he stretches out his hand. Ashley is enchanted, and her tears are suddenly forgotten. She places the damaged apple in his hand. Out of sight from her and the other shoppers, he switches the apple in his hand at vampire speed, sliding the broken one toward his palm while thrusting the undamaged one toward his fingers. He places the whole fruit in the girl's hand, winks at her over a dimpled smile.

Sometimes it really is just this easy: a slight of hand can make something broken look whole and perfect again.

"Look, I fixed it. Good as new."


	30. A Series of Drabbles from Lucette212

**Author: **Lucette212

**Title: **The Book of Common Prayer

**Rating:** T

**Pairing: **Emmett

**Summary: **The last day in the short life of Emmett McCarty. A series of drabbles written for the 30 Days of Emmett.

**Dawn**

The late November sun struggled over the trees as I raised the axe over the last of the kindling. It was right warm for the time of year and not much need for a fire but the kettle wouldn't boil on prayer alone.

I could hear the baby fussing while Ma readied the young'uns for Sunday school. I wanted to lay out of the meeting, head up the trails early but she wouldn't hear it.

"Sunday is _God's_ day Emmett McCarty," she'd declared.

I hid my rifle gun under the buggy reckoning I could head out directly it were finished.

**Noon**

When the sun was overhead I stopped to sit a spell in the shade. Inhaling deeply I picked out the heavy scent of cedar and a faint but pungent odor of a long gone polecat. I was high enough that I could smell the snow that was already falling to the north.

As I watched a hawk circle high above, I thought back to the preacher's sermon – all fire and brimstone and hell. He thundered, "Repent ye or suffer eternal damnation." I couldn't understand how a God who made such wonder would punish an honest man for his human frailties.

**Twilight**

It had been a good day. After searching high and low I'd come across a small doe. Swinging my pokestock to my shoulder, I fired without hesitation. In no time I had her trussed and was dragging her back toward home through the skift which dusted the lower slopes.

As I reached the tree line I stopped to glance back over the beauty of my home. I thought as long as I could breathe fresh air, swim in clean water and provide for my family I'd be as happy as any man.

Too late to react, I heard death approaching.

**Midnight**

I felt myself slipping away as the ground beneath me soaked up my life. I couldn't stop the images that rushed over me: the hungry faces at home; the bone weariness that aged Ma beyond her years; the mournful look in the doe's eyes the moment before the crack of the rifle gun – her lying stone still as acrid smoke curled lazily from the barrel.

Throughout it all, I heard the preacher intone, "Repent, repent, repent."

Closing my eyes, I whispered a prayer of contrition, hoping it would save me.

When I opened my eyes, all I saw was gold.

**Midnight**

**(two days later)**

The fire sanctified me, burning away my mortal sins. Whether it lasted days, or weeks, or years, I didn't know, but throughout it they remained by my side. On my left, an angel cried, sobbing apologies and begging my forgiveness. On my right was God – so gentle, so fatherly – more than Pa had even been before he left us.

I knew I deserved my fate – I drank when I could afford to, I gambled when I could not, and I lay with loose women. But all through my ordeal they did not desert me, and I took comfort in that.


	31. One Shot by Nitareality

**Penname: **Nitareality

**Title**: The Caretaker

**Rating**: M

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**A/N: **Thank you to LambCullen for the portion of beta work that my last minute writing enabled her to do. Thank you to pre-readers Amelie, Morethanmyself and Mizzdee. Thank you to the fabulous ladies I WC with, who encouraged me to run with this.

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**Disclaimer:** I don't own Twilight, or any urban legends that may pop into your mind. I don't own any campy 70's horror flicks, or the concept of blond chicks running from chain saws. It's possible you might find this story scary, and it's possible that it holds triggers for some, related to infertility. I'm going to rate it "M", but it's not very lemony, at all.

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~TC~

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Emmett looked over at Rose**,** as they drove down the bumpy dirt drive that lead to the house. She was giggling, the old truck her up and down, flying off her seat even though she held on to the door's handle. The truck sputtered when Emmett killed the ignition, taking a full minute to stop.

He walked behind Rose on the long walkway that would take them to the front door, taking that moment to appreciate the view. Rose and he had not traveled far physically, only from the city to this place in the country, but the emotional journey had been a long one. He had fallen into this opportunity by sheer luck, and he was taking it as a sign from God that they were getting the fresh start they longed for.

Rose stood at the doorstep, knocking loudly before stepping back to wait. The door opened and they were met with a rugged looking, silver**-**haired man. He eyed them for some time, and Emmett forced his annoyance down. Lord knows how long this man had been responsible for the property**. **He probably would have liked to have more say in who took over for him.

The old man cleared his throat, then spoke with a rough voice, "Big, strong...you look determined**,** boy**.** I think you'll do."

Emmett managed a tight smile as he waited for the man to invited them in.

He didn't.

He walked through the door, his gait a bit halted due to some bowing of his legs. Rose and Emmett backed up, back down the path, giving the man room. Emmett chanced a look at Rose, who was looking at him with a cocked brow. He couldn't look at her again, he'd get the church giggles something fierce. Rosalie could always get him going like that.

Emmett didn't do 'awkward' well.

The man stuck his hand out toward Emmett. "Name's Stefan. I know you're Emmett."

Emmett shook the man's hand firmly. "Nice to meet you**,** sir. This is my wife..."

Stefan grunted. "Rosalie. Yes. You go ahead along Mrs. You'll find plenty to explore inside the house**,** while I take your man around the grounds."

Rosalie didn't do 'dismissal' well.

Rosalie glanced at Emmett, who pleaded with his eyes for her to just let it go. Rosalie gave him a look that he recognized, an expression that promised he'd pay for this later. He snorted, rubbing his stubbly chin with his hand**. **He could handle that.

~TC~

Emmett walked beside the man, as he grumbled along and randomly pointed to structures or equipment left lying about.

He motioned to the graves in the distance. "Now, you know this graveyard isn't active anymore right? The county keeps it tended because the buildings are here, able to house someone, and no one wants to buy untended land. So you'll not be tending to the dead unless something happens to unearth one of these souls. Eventually**,** someone will buy the house, the farmland that comes with it, and who knows what will become of the cemetery.

Basically**,** you need to mow, keep the grounds free of trash, remove dead flowers that have been left, and pull some weeds. You'll need to be doing some maintenance from time to time, but nothing too strenuous. Come winter you'll be needing to keep the paths and driveways cleared so people can get to the graves. There might be the odd occasion where you need to direct, or assist, a visitor to find their loved one. There's a directory and map in the desk at the house"

The man pointed across the street, toward an old barn. "Over there's the barn, in case you want to be keeping animals, or have things to store. The only thing I've ever done is chase the local hooligans out of there. They like to get up to all kinds of no good in there, in that silo too. Give 'em a good scare with a chainsaw and they stay away."

Emmett scratched at the scruff on his face. "I don't know if I'll be using that!"

Stefan laughed, "Well, you're a lot more able to take on a group like that."

"How long have you been the caretaker here?"

"Well, it's only been 5 months. It only took me that long to figure out that I took on way more than this old body could take." The old man's face had paled, his eyes dancing around, not meeting Emmett's. "Well, I suppose we should head on back to the house. I'm sure your wife will be looking for you."

The two men headed back in silence.

Standing in the foyer of the house, Emmett took in the rooms surrounding him. Wood floors, a giant wooden mantle surrounding a fireplace in what appeared to be a sitting room on one side. The walls were papered, the flowery design proof of a woman's touch sometime in the past.

A long stairway led to the second floor, where he could hear Rose walking around. To the other side was a dining room with a long, rough table. Beyond that, through an entry about the size of two doors, he could see the kitchen. It looked to have modern appliances, lots of counter space. Rose was going to love it.

He smiled up at Rose as he saw her coming down the steps. His smile faded when he noticed she'd been crying. He pulled her to him at the bottom of the stairs, and Stefan excused himself. "Baby what's wrong?"

She kept her head tucked into his chest for a minute, then raised her face to him. "It's silly**,** Em, I'm sorry, it's just...there's just a room upstairs." She shook her head and started to cry again, her tears soaking into his t-shirt. He held her tight, kissing her head. "Shh baby, it's okay."

Without raising her head, she spoke quietly. "The bedrooms, upstairs. They're all decorated. And there's just...one is decorated for kids. Balloons, animals. It just, you know. I wasn't expecting it."

He smoothed her hair with his hand, holding his lips to her forehead. "I'll take care of it**,** Rose. Don't go back in there. Give me a day to fix it okay?"

She nodded, finally looking up at him again. "I'm so sorry**,** Em."

He cupped her face in his hands. "No, no**,** Rose. Don't you apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for. I'll take care of it. We'll be good here**,** baby. I promise." He pulled her to him again, holding her tight, whispering. "I love you so much."

"You too**,** Em. I love you too."

"Okay babe, why don't you take a minute, and I'll go finish up with Stefan." He kissed her cheek before turning to follow behind Stefan, heading toward the kitchen.

The old man wasn't in the kitchen, but another pass through took him behind the stairs, into a small room that adjoined the front sitting room. It was set up as an office, with a large roll top desk, and shelves lining the walls. Sunlight poured through the window and illuminated the particles of dust that were rising**,** as Stefan shuffled papers and notebooks around on the desk.

Emmett knocked on the wood trim of the pass through, not wanting to startle the man. "Hey**,** Stefan, sorry about that."

The man turned, his brow furrowed, his lips turned down. "Your wife? She...Is she alright?"

"Yeah. Yes. Thanks, she'll be okay." He motioned to the desk. "So this is the business end of things then?"

Stefan went through all of the details, paperwork, grounds checklists that had to be sent to the county, the map and directory. Next came a huge metal circle filled halfway with keys. Some modern keys, mostly old skeleton type keys. Each key had a piece of paper wrapped around it, with a number written on it. Around the paper was a piece of tape. Stefan showed him the master list that correlated to the set of keys.

"Now you're going to need to keep tabs on this. If you lose a label, replace it right away. Once you've lost a few, you have to go back and match things up again. I promise, come winter, you're not going to want to do that."

Finally Stefan leaned back against the desk. He crossed his arms, looking Emmett in the eye. "Son, it seems like we've covered everything. I know you're from these parts, so I don't have to tell you about freezing pipes and blizzards. The county runs by once a month, weather permitting, to make sure things are going okay. There's only one thing left for me to say."

The old man cleared his throat, a gruff, nervous sound. "The people around here, they love to talk. There are more about this place, and the people who've lived here, going back more than a hundred years. There have been plenty of deaths here, but there have been at any homestead. Parents, children, yep, there's been all kinds of death here. For every other grave there seems to be a tale of unfinished business or revenge. It can't all be true, but like I said, I could not walk away without letting you know, if you believe in such things."

Emmett scoffed. "Nah**,** Stefan. People are bad enough to each other, and enough bad things happen to good people**.** I just can't believe there's another dimension waiting to make us more miserable. But it's good fodder for cold nights, that's for sure."

Stefan motioned to the shelves again. "There are journals, photo albums, here, on that there shelf. Different caretakers, back to when they weren't just caretakers, but farm families and grave diggers. I'm a history buff, it's been enlightening for sure. I'll caution you though, reading all that? Looking at the pictures, it'll put an idea or two in your head."

Emmett ran his hands through his short hair**.** "Aw, yeah, you don't need to worry about that with Rosie and I. We'll be fine."

Stefan eyed him skeptically. "Well, it seems like your woman scares easy, and I'd not be an honest man if I didn't say something."

"Oh, that, no. No, that wasn't a scare." Emmett walked closer to the man, not wanting to further any rumors. He spoke softly, making sure he had eye contact with the man. "Rose, see, Rose wants a baby more than anything, and it just hasn't, it's just not." Emmett hung his head. "There's a kids room up there, and she just, she wasn't prepared, that's all."

Emmett caught Stefan's eyes, and they held a soft glow. "Well boy, I bid you well. I'm sorry for your troubles, and only hope maybe you are the people this house has been waiting for. My best wishes to your wife and you, and good luck to both of you. I'll be on my way now."

Emmett followed him out, Rose meeting up with him in the foyer to say goodbye. Emmett receiving a handshake, and Rose getting a tight hug.

"Goodbye then. You best get going about what couples are supposed to be going about, now. Any questions, call the county. Take care and be safe."

At that, he dropped into his beater of a car, tried several times to start it, and then finally it roared to life. He backed out of the drive slowly, but Emmett was surprised to see him tear out like a bat out of hell once his car met the street.

~TC~

By the time Emmett had come back into the house after seeing Stefan off, it was starting to get dark. When he opened the door he was met with the smells of food cooking, and followed his nose toward the kitchen. Before he met the pass-through, he heard the strains of music drifting through the rooms. "Bad Moon Rising" was blaring from Rose's little transistor radio, and he stopped in the entry to watch her.

She was unwrapping dishes and washing them, her behind swinging as she worked. She was completely oblivious to him, so he stayed still. It was far too rare that he got to see her unguarded, and this was priceless.

Finally, she turned and saw him, giving him a smile. He walked over to her, taking a mug from her hand and placing it on the counter. He wrapped his arms around her, resting his head atop hers. "Looks like you're getting a lot done in here. Anything I can do?"

She pulled away from him, smiling. "No, not now. Maybe after dinner you could carry in some more of the boxes from the truck? The food's almost ready though," she handed him some plates and silverware, "would you take these to the table?"

He set up the table, a place setting at the head of the long table, and then right next to it. He sighed, thinking of how unnecessary this huge table was, just another reminder for Rose of what they didn't have. He shook his head, hoping to shake off the sadness that had invaded him.

Minutes later, she came in, bearing a big dish that she put on the table. She walked back into the kitchen, bringing in a can of beer for each of them. She sat next to him, popping the top off her beer at the same time he did.

"Cheers**,** Em," she said, holding out her can for him to tap, "to new beginnings, right?"

He couldn't resist her hopeful smile. "Yeah**,** Rose, new beginnings."

He looked down at the dish in front of him, cheese bubbling on the top, the aroma making his stomach growl. He looked back at her and she laughed. "It's okay, dig in!"

A couple of hours, a few beers and a lot of tipsy dances later, they were both yawning and sleepy eyed. The mess from dinner still hadn't been cleaned, and when Rose started to take care of it, he slipped into the living room. He'd deal with a minute of her exasperation to give her a peaceful night's sleep.

He quickly went to the set of mattresses leaning against the wall, waiting to be brought upstairs to the bedroom. He slid one of them to the center of the room, then made quick work of raiding the box of sheets and blankets and stuff, making up a crude looking, but comfortable bed. He's grabbed the lantern from the truck, and now placed it by the mattress. Once he had it lit, he turned off the overhead light and surveyed his work.

He wandered into the kitchen, and helped Rose with the final tasks he knew she'd need to do to be able to call it a night. Thankfully, it seemed she hadn't missed him during his absence. When they were done, he grabbed her hand and pulled her through the dining room and into the living room.

She was surprised at what he'd done**.** "Oh**,** Em! Thank you so much. I'm so tired, and just want to...and I couldn't go up...thank you**,** baby."

He kissed the hand he'd been holding, then pulled her down onto the mattress, so that she was laying on top of him.

"You're so good to me**,**" she whispered**. "**Thank you for this."

She pressed her lips to his, softly at first, then needy. Under the covers of their makeshift bed, they peeled clothing off slowly, mouths and hands reacquainting themselves with familiar territory in this new environment. As Emmett made love to her, he put everything into trying to make her forget, to make her remember how beautiful she was, how wanted she was.

Tonight would be spent here, cozy in the dim light of the lantern, no horrible reminders of times past. Tomorrow he would do nothing other than make sure she could be upstairs without reliving her nightmares.

Soon after they had fallen asleep, a small puff of air extinguished the flame of the lantern.

~TC~

He woke the next morning, the harsh sunlight burning into his face. Rose slept, still, curled around him, holding on as if for dear life. He loved the contact, but hated the fear, the misgivings that made her cling to him. Still, he didn't move, savoring this time with her.

A while later, when she woke with a small yawn and a stretch, he pulled her into a full embrace. "Good morning**,** babe," he whispered**. "**And what is your plan for the day?"

"Well, I still have to put up most of the kitchen, the bathroom down here, the living room. All cleaning and unpacking." She looked at him, her brows furrowed. "If you can't get to it today Em, it's okay. I have enough to do down here, and it was kind of cozy sleeping down here with you."

He rolled her over onto her back, settling between her legs, kissing her softly. "Nope, I start today, two days tops. I'll get started right after breakfast." He smirked. "Speaking of, what's for breakfast**,** babe?"

She rolled her eyes and pushed him off of her. "Whatever I can find**,** Em. Go shower or something while I figure it out. I'll call you when it's ready."

The two went their separate ways, excited to get started with their day.

~TC~

Rosalie decided to keep things simple for her husband, pulling out a half dozen eggs and a handful of bread for toast. The radio was back on; she was happily singing along and cracking eggs into the frying pan when she heard a light thumping overhead. The thumping seemed to travel from area to area, one minute over the kitchen where she stood, then more towards the office that was attached to it.

Chills ran down her spine as she walked toward the office, spatula in hand. As she neared the pass-through to the office a persistent banging noise sounded, different than before. It grew in intensity and speed the closer she got to the pass-through to the office. She slowed her steps, but couldn't help moving toward the room.

"Rose!"

She dropped the spatula to the ground, spinning around to find Emmett standing by the stove, looking none too happy.

"What are you doing? These eggs are burnt to hell. You okay?"

She was relieved to see the look on his face turn from angry to concerned, but she was so embarrassed about the eggs. "I'm so sorry**,** Em, I heard something. I heard this banging, and it was so loud, and then something else..."

She bent to pick up the spatula, bringing it to the sink to wash.

"Aw**,** Rose, this is an old house. It was probably just the old pipes knocking around while I took a shower." He chuckled, walking over to her and holding her to him. "Look, I know you're spooked, just let me do a little work and you'll see, there's nothing to be scared of in this house. It's just a house."

She nodded her head, wondering if her imagination and fears had gotten the best of her. That's what made the most sense, of course. She squeezed her husband back, then broke away to clean up the egg mess and start breakfast over again. "It'll be ready in just a few minutes. Sit at the table and I'll get your coffee. I'm so sorry, again."

He smiled at her, the smile that almost always made everything okay. "Don't worry about it **,**babe, we're going through a lot of changes. We, you, we'll adjust and it'll be perfect."

This time, as she broke the eggs over the frying pan, she lost two eggs to shaky hands and broken yolks. Thank goodness she wasn't hungry.

~TC~

Emmett made his way upstairs, trying not to let his concern for his wife overwhelm him. He understood her reaction to the kids room upstairs, where he was headed now. Heck, he'd seen the room and it was almost macabre, the happy balloons and circus animals on the wallpaper, the dilapidated, shredded and yellowed wallpaper. The carpet had dark, rusty stains that spread across it, and the musty smell was almost unbearable.

He hoped that ripping up the carpet would reveal a wooden floor that would be a reasonably easily fixed project. Once he got the swollen windows open and the screens popped out, he started to pull the rug and the padding up, delighted when the first small corner revealed a honey colored surface. Encouraged, he began tearing with abandon, huge pieces of musty carpeting tossed out the window as he made progress.

Hours later, covered in sweat and dust, he finally paused, taking stock of his progress. The floor was clear, the tack straps that held the carpet down, were gone. With a little sanding and a fresh coat of varnish, it wouldn't be half bad.

He headed downstairs, planning to check in with his wife, grab some lunch, figure out the rest of the day. He would need to head out to the hardware store for some supplies for the room, and he was sure she'd want to chime in on paint colors for the room.

The ever present radio echoed throughout the first level of the house, "Magic Man" bouncing off the walls. Walking through the empty kitchen, he spied a pile of sandwiches on a plate, next to a couple glasses of lemonade. Grabbing one of each, he walked further back, heading to the windows that looked over the yard.

He'd been standing at the windows for a few moments when he heard the sweeping sound of a page being turned. He turned toward the sound, seeing Rose in the office, sitting at the desk with a huge volume in front of her. He walked toward her, knocking on the frame of the pass-through, so as not to alarm her. She didn't look up.

He walked deliberately, but his heavy footsteps did nothing to alert her. When he was finally directly behind her, he placed his hand on her shoulder, again gaining no reaction. Looking over her, he saw the book that she was entranced by. Faded handwritten entries lined the pages of what appeared to be a journal and scrapbook of sorts. He scanned the entries, his interest growing to concern in a short span of time.

_August 17th, 1882:_ _Having just settled after a week of activity, I am finally free to write of our new venture. Benjamin happened upon this unique opportunity at the elder's meeting after Sunday service. Word had been passed, from parish to parish, of the need for a family to take over this homestead. They would take over care of the property and all of it's structures, helping to run the attached school and grounds for those called home to God. With paying work hard to come by, and several hungry little mouths to feed, we would have been fools to turn it down._

He squeezed her shoulders, calling her name to get her attention. "Baby, why don't you come have lunch with me on the porch, leave these dusty old books for some other time?"

"What? Oh, sure. Let me just put this..."

"No, it's okay," he said, unable to explain his urgent need to get the book out of her grasp. "I'll get the book and put it back, you go on ahead. I'll be right there."

When she had left the room, he took the book and placed it atop the shelf, hiding it from view. He'd read more later, when Rose was asleep.

He sat next to her, feeling a little guilt over hiding the book from her, but the urge to protect her from sadness and fear was stronger. She snuggled into his side when they were done eating, giggling about her overly tart lemonade, and discussing plans for the room upstairs.

Rose had decided that it would be a perfect guest room, and asked for a sunny yellow color for the walls. He looked at his wife, so resilient, so beautiful to him. "Do you want to come with me to the store?"

She smiled at him, shaking her head. "No, I really should get back to work. If I get enough done I'm hoping to take a nice long walk and see what's growing around here."

He kissed her on the cheek, then left.

~TC~

Rose went back into the kitchen, determined to get the kitchen done. It looked like the floor hadn't been scrubbed in years, so filled a bucket with warm, soapy water, and got to work. It was filthy work, and about halfway through the kitchen she stood to switch out the water. She stood at the sink waiting for the bucket to fill and staring into space, when she heard something.

She turned off the water, turned the radio off, then just stood still and listened. Just as she was scoffing at herself for having an overly vivid imagination, she heard it again. A clear giggle sounded from around the corner.

She walked slowly toward the sound, but it retreated as she followed. Within minutes she was standing at the staircase, the tinkling sounds of a child's laughter wafting down from above. She grasped the banister with a trembling hand, each shaky step on the stairs making them creak and groan.

When she arrived at the top of the stairs, the tears began to run down her cheeks, her heart knowing exactly where she was being led. She rounded the corner, heading down the hall, to where the noise was growing in it's wildness, turning from innocent giggle, to mocking laughter by the second. Her legs barely held her until she finally reached the children's room, at which point they buckled. Rosalie knelt before the room, her face frozen in a soundless scream.

Blood pooled in the middle of the room, then began to seep from the walls, coming through he tears in the wallpaper. The wicked laughter had turned to horrified screaming and she scrambled back away from the room, surprised to find the screams were her own. Before she could assess where her backwards clamber was taking her, she had reached the stairs, rolling down them and landing at the bottom in a crumpled mass.

~TC~

Emmett pulled into the driveway of his new home at dusk, to find it unlit, and completely silent. He opened the door, set his bags down, and flipped the light on. The sight in front of him shook him to the bone.

There lay his wife, the only movement her shallow breathing. She was on her side, curled into herself. There was blood caked in her hair, and her eyes were closed. He bent down to wake her gently, cringing as he got a closer look.

"Hey," he shook her gently, "Rose, you've got to wake up baby."

She didn't respond, and despite the desperate need he had to pick her up and put her in bed, he knew better. He went to the kitchen to wet a rag, hoping that cleaning her up would keep him sane, while he waited for her to wake up.

Some time later, still sitting next to her on the floor, he saw her eyes flutter. No

sooner than he'd registered her waking, she began to scream, completely incoherent except for one word, 'blood'.

He was able to get her to calm, cleaning her as best he could while he tried to reassure her that he had not seen blood anywhere in that room. He brought her to rest in the bed, bringing her a hefty glass of his whiskey, once he felt sure her head was okay. He lit a fire in their makeshift bedroom, the dark being too much for her to bear.

He cuddled her late into the night, until she was finally sound asleep. He took advantage of this time to head up the stairs, try to see if he could figure out what had happened.

He took full inventory of the room, now brightly lit by the overhead fixture. The wallpaper remained, shredded and dismal as before. While the floor harbored quite a few scuffs and stains, he saw nothing that should have alarmed Rose, as it obviously had. He'd have to see if she could provide him with more information tomorrow, anything to keep her from having this reaction again.

He returned downstairs, grabbing a sandwich leftover from lunch, then heading to the office to grab the book. He brought both into the living room to be by his wife, and read in front of the fire. He opened the book to the page where he'd left off.

_September 5th, 1882:_ _It is horrific to record that I heard tell of the nature of the previous caretaker's departure. At the after service luncheon, there had been a wave of whispering, following our formal introduction to the parish. While the womenfolk were admonished for their gossiping ways by their husbands, of course my curiosity was piqued. Pastor was kind enough to sit down with us and separate rumor from fact._

_It would seem that the family who lived here before us, was troubled beyond repair. They had arrived much the same as us, but slowly the mind of the father, a Jonathon Stanley, began to falter. Come spring of last year, after the long winter, the man stabbed his wife and children, before taking his own life by hanging himself in the barn._

_September 28th, 1882:_ _It is with a great fear in my heart that I put these thoughts to writing. Over the past weeks, young Ben has been so traumatized. Every night he calls out to us, his terror evident when we go to him. He cries and shakes, screams and pounds his little fists on his father. He's inconsolable at night, and during the day, he is dead on his feet. The lack of sleep is evident in his pallor, the dark smudges and redness that rim his eyes, the gauntness of his face. I worry so, but it seems as if there's nothing to be done of it._

Emmett woke the next morning, half the sandwich on his chest, and the book splayed open on his lap. Taking a peek around the room, he could see Rose beginning to stir, so jumped up to put the book away. He was now secure in his decision to keep the book from her, and more than concerned about what would happen if she ever found out what had happened here in their home.

It had taken over a week for her to be back to normal, sprained joints, bruises and cuts making her body fragile, and her mind seemingly unable to rest. She woke screaming nightly, even now that she was up and about, unwilling to talk anymore about the event that triggered them.

The room had been finished. He'd stripped the wallpaper, coating the walls in the brightest sun yellow he'd been able to find. The baseboards and ceiling were white. A big bed with a brass headboard sat in the middle, under the window, and right over the only stain in the floor that he hadn't been able to sand out.

He had to bite his tongue when he showed it to her, and she'd just stared at the spot, not saying a word. They were only weeks into their stay, she'd been a mess the whole time, and he'd put off all of his work to make this room okay for her. She didn't even thank him.

He decided to make one last ditch effort to make the room palatable to her. He'd found untold treasures in the barn, where he'd found the bed and numerous other furnishings. There were beds and sofas, tables and what he was looking for now, area rugs.

He had to climb up into the loft again, climbing over, under and around items to reach them, but then he found them. Rolls of rugs, piled under a sheet. He took his time selecting one, a simple flowery design in yellows and blues that he thought his wife would love. He brought it to the side of the loft and threw it over, where it landed in an explosion of hay and dust.

He returned back to the ladder, where he started his descent. About five steps from the bottom, he lost his footing, landing on the floor on his back. He closed his eyes, bringing his fingers to his temples.

A whisper was building in his head, he tried to dismiss it as a reaction to being overtired, worried and feeling like he was floundering. Just a little voice, but so unfamiliar to him that he found himself squeezing his head to rid himself of it.

"_The bitch had better be grateful this time."_

~TC~

The next days were busy. Emmett got to work on the actual responsibilities of the care-taking position. Rose continued to unpack and move them in slowly. In the time when he was not working on the grounds, he was painting and repairing, anything he could do to make his wife happy in their new home.

Rose hadn't really returned to her normal self, and it was becoming frustrating to be around her. Today he'd taken his lunch with him so he wouldn't have to come home midday. He was in the cemetery, after mowing all morning. Curiously, he found a familiar name on the headstone before him, and chose to sit and lunch with him.

"Well, well, well Mr. Stanley...fancy meeting you here!" He took a big bite out of his sandwich, laughing to himself as he chewed. "Jonathon Stanley, bats in the belfry, eh? That's okay, right now, believe it or not, you're better company than my woman."

He picked at the grass in front of him. "You know, you try. You try your best to be a nice guy. You do everything you can, to be a good husband. Is it ever good enough? I don't mean to speak for you, Mr. Stanley, but let me guess, _no_?"

Wiping his hands on his thighs as he stood, Emmett spoke again. "Well it's been a real slice sharing a meal with you, Mr. Stanley. I hope we can manage this again."

Emmett made the short trip to the machine shed with the mower. After putting it away, he decided to do a little tool maintenance. He grabbed the file and sat on the tool bench to sharpen the pruners, the first in a row of regular and gardening tools he'd need to get sharpened before he went home.

When he had perfected the edge on a pair of tree branch loppers, he stopped to survey his progress. Standing in the silence, he caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye. He'd seen movement, he could swear a boy had run across the grass just outside the shed.

He exited the shed, heading around to the space in front of the shed window, guessing this would be the first hooligan encounter he'd have. He walked all the way around the shed, seeing nothing and chalking it up to a branch moving in the breeze. He returned to the shed, walking straight to the bench to grab the file, then turned to grab another tool.

When he turned he was met with the face of a leering boy. He was sickly pale, his eyes blackened, his lips dry and cracked. He wore tattered overalls, filth covering his body and clothing. Still he smiled, inching forward, waving a pocket knife at Emmett.

"Look," he said, trying to control his wavering voice, "just put the knife down kid, and maybe I won't call the police."

The boy ran his hand backward across his nose, sniffling and snickering as he did so.

Emmett held the file in front of him to ward the boy off, looking to his side to find something more persuasive. Stefan's chain saw sat on the bench, and Emmett grabbed it and pulled the cord, setting it roaring to life. Satisfied, he looked up just in time to see the boy vanish before his eyes, blinking out quickly like a lamp being extinguished.

That evening at dinner, neither of them spoke, and Emmett was kept company by a quickly dwindling bottle of whiskey.

~TC~

The next morning Rose approached him tentatively. "Baby, I was thinking..."

He cut her off with a huff and an eye-roll, but she didn't let it go.

"It's just, I miss you, you know, since we came here, and we don't really seem to have time anymore."

"Right Rose, it must be all the work getting in the way of our special time," he sneered.

"Well, right. See, and I thought maybe if I came to meet you, brought you lunch where you are, it would be nice. I could be, you know."

She was wringing her fingers and he just wanted to grab them and twist them. He'd never given her a single reason to be afraid of him, and here she was acting like a beat down dog.

"Fine. I'll be working by the barn. Wait at the side for me. Don't be thinking I can take all afternoon." He stalked off, not even bothering with his morning coffee

~TC~

She was careful as she readied lunch. The music was blaring, the only way she could work in the house with Em gone. She lived in constant fear of the noises and sights she'd seen. She knew she hadn't imagined them, just as she knew something was not right with her husband. This house, this place, it was bad, and she had to get them out. She just didn't know how.

She bundled up the lunch inside a picnic blanket, and walked over to the barn. She could hear him then, in the barn, muttering to himself. She couldn't understand what he was saying, but when she peeked in, he was gesturing wildly, a rope in one hand, a flask in the other.

She shrunk away from the barn, laying the blanket out, and placing the food on top. Then she waited.

She had no way of knowing how long she waited, but it was long enough for the cold drinks to begin to warm. He spent that time seemingly engaged in the same activity, the grumbling never stopped, and she could sense no cessation of movement.

When he finally joined her, she was truly frightened. She served the food without saying a word, her hands trembling as she handed it to him. He snatched the food from her hand, shoving it in his mouth like a hungry animal.

She waited until he was finished before she started. As much as she feared this conversation, she figured it was now or never. "Emmett, talk to me. What's wrong?"

He looked up at her, his eyes dark and wild, his eyebrow cocked in challenge. "_Wrong_, Rosalie? What could possibly be _wrong_, darling Rose?"

"It's just, since we've been here, it seems like something is wrong with you, with us. Please just talk to me!"

He stood up, pacing madly before her. "Me? Wrong with me? I'm not the one that can't be left alone in the house without freaking out and falling down the stairs. I'm not the one with an irrational fear of a room!"

Rose stood, backing away from him, towards the barn.

"All I've done since we got here, _Rose_, is try to make you happy! I'd apologize for my inadequacies in the face of your perfection, my _beautiful flower_, but I don't think that I'm the problem here! Have you considered that maybe it would serve you well to say 'thank you' for my efforts? Have you even once thought about the pressure I have on me to keep this place in order? The other people in this world, besides you, that depend on me?"

"I can't talk to you when you're like this. You don't mean what you're saying. Em, we have to leave. I think we need to get away from the house for a little while, please!" She was pressed up against the barn, with him coming steadily toward her.

Suddenly he punched the barn wall beside her head, "I think, that what we really need, is for you to shut the fuck up, and get away from me, before I hurt you!"

She ran then, tears flowing from her eyes, slamming the door of the house behind her. She flew up the stairs, squeezing her eyes shut to the room featured in her nightmares, running to the dresser in the bedroom Em had set up for them. She pulled a suitcase from the closet, and started throwing clothes in. When it was full, she settled in the window seat, where she could watch the barn across the street.

When she was satisfied that he wasn't going to be coming to the house in chase after her, she went to the kitchen to grab the keys to the truck. She'd leave, go to her Mom's house, until she and Emmett could talk calmly. For the time being, it was getting dark and she didn't want to be home when he came back.

Finding that the keys weren't on the rack, she slid to the floor in the kitchen and cried. Going over her options, she decided to see if maybe he'd left them in the truck, and if not, she'd have to go find him and ask for them. She scribbled a note to him, picked up her suitcase and snuck out to the truck.

She slipped her suitcase into the truck bed, then peered through the windows. She was in luck, the keys sat on the seat, all she had to do was get the door open and the truck going without alerting him.

She wanted to just leave, but a part of her needed to see where he was, if he was likely to hear her when she left. She decided to walk over to the barn, it was dark out now, he wouldn't see her easily if he was still inside it.

She hid behind the double barn doors, balanced on a stone, peering in to see what he was doing. He was pacing again, his words unintelligible but for the random shout.

"Not getting away!'

"I have it under control!"

Sitting on the ground in front of him was a yellow chainsaw, it almost appeared as if he were speaking to it.

Simultaneously, several things happened. The rock she stood on tumbled out from under her, and her eyes met her husband's.

A smile spread over his face, and he asked calmly, "Going somewhere babe?"

His eyes flicked to the chainsaw, and Rose took off running.

~TC~

Officer Newton was out on his usual patrol route, when he saw something on the side of the road. He pulled over, ready to call Animal Control to come collect yet another deer, when he saw the blond hair. He did manage to call for back-up before vomiting onto the roadside, but only just.

Over the next few days, the little town was inundated with reporters from around the country, all wanting to talk about the fifth such tragedy in 100 years at the old homestead. The poor girl, massacred as she ran, and the husband, apparently despondent afterward, hanging from the rafters in the barn.

Now the cameras all pointed toward the home, where a bulldozer had been hired by the county, at long last, to raze the place. Anyone local knew how lucky it had been that the couple had no children. Anyone with half a brain knew that restless souls weren't bound to houses, but to the land where their blood seeped into the earth.

~TC~

_March 5, 2008:_ _The Skylark Development Corporation announced in a press conference today that it had finally succeeded in purchasing a valuable tract of land located on Shoe Factory Road in Hoffman Estates, IL, for the purpose of residential development. The single-family homes will retail for upwards of $300,000.00, this being the only undeveloped land in the very popular suburb._

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**E/N: **Shoe Factory Road, and the homes and stories exist in different forms. I wouldn't want to be living in one of the luxury homes that are being built on the land.


	32. One Shot from UofMAnne

**Penname: **UofMAnne

**Title: **Prince Produce

**Summary: **What are the chances that an overheard phone conversation in the produce department could lead to something more? Emmett's about to find out.

**A/N: **Thank you to AccioBourbon, HMonster4, and TheHeartofLife for organizing this whole project. Extra special thanks go to AccioBourbon, who cajoled me into signing up, and then did pre-reading duties and a lot of hand-holding. IdPattThat gave me a hilariously honest pre-read. Minervajean and Tehrager are the two best pre-readers/betas that a girl could ask for. You two are the music in me, the wind beneath my wings, and the peanut butter to my jelly. I could not have done this without you. 3 3 3

**-0-0-0-**

As he circled the apple display, Emmett couldn't help but hear her before he saw her, marching towards the produce department, looking like she couldn't decide between frustration and panic.

"Yeah, I got it Ange. Three aubergines, a lemon, and a pound of fresh mozzarella. I'm hanging up now, because you're turning into a crazy person." Huffing, she threw her phone in her hand basket and stopped dead in her tracks. "Of course, it would help if I knew what an aubergine was. Gah!" Apparently, frustration won out.

"It's eggplant," Emmett offered up tentatively. He'd learned the hard way that it wasn't always wise to get in the way of a frustrated woman, even if your intentions were noble.

"What?"

"Aubergine. It's eggplant. Sorry. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but..."

"No, no, it's fine. Thanks. You saved me a phone call. Call it wishful thinking but...what are the chances you know how to pick out an aubergine?"

Something about the way she said "aubergine", like it was almost a dirty word, made Emmett want to laugh out loud. She didn't strike him as the kind of girl who flailed around, always looking for a knight in shining armour to save her from life's little complications. In all actuality, she looked like she was ten seconds away from pulling out her cell phone and googling "How to Buy Eggplant". He wasn't sure why, but he didn't want to let her get away just yet. "You want me to help you pick out produce? Isn't that a little forward?"

"I know, I'm sorry. It's just...my friend Angela. She's a touch on the high strung side. Which is usually great. She's great, really. Just, not so much when people don't meet expectations. And now I got roped into this and I'm babbling like a crazy lady in the produce section at a really cute guy. Really, you can ignore me."

"Not only am I not going to ignore you, I will help you find the perfect aubergine for your great, yet high strung friend. Come on, the perfect fruit awaits you," Emmett responded with what he hoped was casual, yet engaging, joviality. Mentally, he had already started to question his behavior. _Who am I, and what world is this? Am I _really _using eggplant as an opening? Lame dude, really lame. _

"Wait a minute. Are you some kind of weird serial killer who stalks his prey at the apple kiosk? Is this aubergine knowledge just a ruse to get me away from prying eyes?" The corner of her mouth turned up just enough to let Emmett know that she was kidding, and gave him the courage to ignore his inner critic and forge ahead.

"So you won't believe me if I tell you the best aubergines get stored in the alley behind the store, and you can only pick them after dark?"

She threw her head back and laughed, not the giggle Emmett would have expected from someone so feminine, but a deep, throaty laugh.

"I like your style. I think I'll take my chances. Show me what you've got, Produce-Boy."

As he sorted through the display, Emmett rambled on about how to pick the perfect aubergine.

"You want one that's medium sized, with firm, but pliable skin, and even color. Like this, see?" Holding one out for inspection, he couldn't help but grin at the look of amusement on her face. Suddenly, he remembered that she had called him "a really cute guy", and he wanted to pat himself on the back for somehow managing to strike up a legitimate conversation at the grocery store.

"Wow. You're like the eggplant-whisperer, or something. Seriously, thank you. I would be embarrassed about this, if I weren't so grateful."

"Well, helping solve produce-related crises is kind of my secret superpower. Who needs flying or x-ray vision when..." Emmett trailed off as his cell phone began to bleat a familiar ringtone. "I'm sorry. I have to get this...just...gah! I'm sorry."

As he paced, he willed his sister to hurry up and get to the point. "Alice, you know I love you, but seriously. Right now you are the teacher from Charlie Brown to me." Looking up, he saw his damsel in distress give him a sheepish grimace. Pointing at her wrist she whispered "I have to go. I'm sorry. Thank you so much. You saved me. I have to go."

"Shit. Hold on, Al. Wait! What's your...dammit."

**-0-0-0-**

Three weeks later, Emmett still couldn't shake the memory of his mystery woman. After a week, he had reluctantly shared the story with his sister Alice and her husband, Jasper. Predictably, Alice thought it was romantic, and that he should be stalking produce sections city-wide to try to find his pretty damsel. Jasper gave him a sympathetic clap on the shoulder and bypassed the beer in favor of scotch. He was surprised he hadn't heard his mother's thoughts on the issue; Alice wasn't normally known for her discretion, especially when it came to her big brother. Either Alice hadn't mentioned it, or Esme was biding her time. He hoped his luck held through at least tonight.

Normally, Emmett and his siblings took turns attending the hospital's annual Black Tie Gala with their parents, but Edward had begged off at the last minute, leaving two empty seats at their parents' table. If only he had gotten her name, maybe he would have been able to bring mystery girl tonight. Shaking his head quickly to dislodge _that _thought, Emmett looked up at the sound of high heels on hardwood.

"Alright, I'm ready. Sorry about that. Crisis averted, let's go eat small portions of expensive food and pretend to look interested. I've been practicing my "oh, how fascinating" face since I got your call this morning."

Laughing, Emmett took an appreciative look at his best friend. "Rosie, Rosie, Rosie. You look amazing. Thank you for this, by the way. Are you sure Peter doesn't mind me borrowing his girl for the night?"

"Are you kidding me? I think he's grateful. Now he has an excuse to go play pool with his friends, instead of suffering through a Saturday night _Harry Potter_ marathon. Plus, this should satisfy my need to get dressed up and go somewhere fancy, so he's off the hook on that for a little while, too. He'll probably send you a thank you card." Her easy tone and the way her face lit up as she spoke made her love for Peter obvious. As they made their way to the car and headed towards the hotel, Emmett couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy at how easy Peter's life was. He had a gorgeous, smart girlfriend who was just as at ease watching movies at home as she was attending fancy dinners.

"Why is it again that I never snapped you up?" he questioned as they pulled into the valet line.

"I've known you since I was four. I have memories of you throwing temper tantrums over the red crayon, Emmett. Besides, we're too alike. What's got you in a mood, anyway? Is this still about that girl with the eggplants? You've exceeded the statute of limitations on moping about that, you know. If you don't snap out of it, I'm going to have to stage some sort of intervention. Do you really want to have to listen to Esme tell you she loves you like crazy, but she needs you to get laid? Because if you do, I can make that happen. Just say the word."

"God forbid," Emmett shuddered a little as he took Rose's arm to lead her into the ballroom. "Let's never use the phrase 'get laid' and my mother's name in the same sentence, ever again. Please."

As they made their way across the ballroom, Rose provided commentary on who had had plastic surgery, who looked even more miserable than they had at the last ball, and the sorry state of what the organizers were passing off as hors d'oeuvres. Except this year, something was off.

"Emmett, oh my God. This food is actually _good_," came the shocked pronouncement. "No, really," she continued when he shot her a disbelieving look. It wouldn't be the first time she had convinced him to eat something unappetizing. "They must have gotten a new caterer, because this is food I would actually choose to eat."

"They did," confirmed Esme. Neither Emmett nor Rose had seen her walking up. "You're lucky it was just me, you two. If any of the old biddies on the board had overheard that, they'd be furious. This last minute catering change has them in an uproar. They thought the last caterer was perfect. They are, of course, conveniently over-looking the fact that the last caterer cancelled on us three days ago. We're lucky we could find someone so quickly."

As they mingled through the crowd and eventually took their seats, Emmett was glad Rose had been working on her "oh, how fascinating" face, because he was doing a terrible job of paying attention. His mind kept drifting back to eggplant-girl. _Aubergine Girl_, he mentally corrected himself. Rose did a commendable job of covering for him, but as they sat down at their table, she leaned into him and whispered furiously.

"Get it together, Cullen. I can cover for you with people who barely know you, but if you keep this space cadet act up through dinner, Esme is going to figure out that something is wrong, and God help us all then."

Nodding his agreement, Emmett turned back to his parents and vowed to really pay attention to the conversation at the table. His plan worked, for about four minutes. Then, their server arrived to drop off the first course.

All conversation at the table stopped as Emmett gasped and the server set the salad she was delivering to Rose down with a clatter. Esme and Carlisle looked between the two in confusion, while understanding dawned on Rose's face.

"Oh my God. It's her, isn't it Emmett. It's..."

"Aubergine Girl!"

Without another word, the server turned and fled, leaving a stunned table in her wake.

**-0-0-0-**

"Bella, what happened? What is wrong with you?" Even in the middle of the most stressful night of her career, Angela could tell that something was definitely _not okay_ with her best friend.

"It's _him_. He's here. What is he _doing_ here? What the hell? Why is this my life?" With a groan, Bella covered her face with her hands and slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor.

"Okay, first of all, get off the floor. That can't possibly be clean. Or comfortable. Second of all, I'm going to need more information, here. There are a lot of men out there. Can you be more specific?"

"The guy from the store. With the produce. Produce Boy." Still sitting on the floor, Bella couldn't quite bring herself to look at her friend. "And now it's your big chance to really make it, and I'm in the kitchen, hiding on the floor. Oh my God, I'm a terrible friend. Can you just...if someone else takes my tables, and you put me across the room, I'll be okay, I swear. I just, I can't face him. I can't. He's in a _tux_ Ange. I'm powerless against the tux. Don't send me back out there."

"Let me get this straight, " Angela began. "The hot guy who helped you pick out eggplant, the hot guy who caused you to show up at my shop without mozzarella _or _lemons, is out there? The guy who you have been staring off into space and daydreaming about for three weeks? The guy we can all thank for your sudden interest in produce? He's out there? In a tux? And you're in here, hiding on the floor? Forget ruining my big night, this is your second chance! Now get up and get back out there!"

With that, Angela jerked Bella off the floor and started brushing her off. "Here. Brady covered for you and finished serving the salads. I don't have enough servers to _not_ send you back out, and I'll be damned if I'm listening to another second of 'He was perfect and what was I thinking, walking away?' from you. Not when your second chance is out there in a tux. GO!"

"You're a little scary when you're like this, you know?" was the only thing Bella said as she made her way back out into the ballroom. _Alright Swan, you can do this. Just go out there, clear their soup course, and then you're done. You can go home and pretend this never happened. _

Approaching their table again, Bella steeled herself. _It's four minutes. You can survive anything for four minutes. GO! _

By the time Bella returned to the kitchen to drop off the cleared salad plates, she thought she might have a handle on things. _Okay, so the night started off on the wrong foot, but I think I recovered nicely. Strong work, Swan!_ As she turned away from the plating area, she felt a hand grab her elbow and drag her towards the corner.

"Here's the deal," Angela whisper-yelled over the commotion in the kitchen. "His name is Emmett Cullen, oldest son of Dr. and Mrs. Cullen-that would be the good looking couple at his table. Never been married, the blonde with him is apparently a family friend. He's 29, an architect, and actually hotter than you initially reported." At Bella's incredulous look, Angela shrugged. "What? I peeked my head out there and then I set out to get information. I told you, I'm not letting you screw up this second chance."

"Okay, first of all, the speed with which you can obtain personal details about a total stranger is truly frightening. Second of all, the fact that he's never been married, totally hot, and here with a "family friend" doesn't give me much hope that he's, you know, _straight." _Bella turned to busy herself with anything but dealing with Angela.

"Oh Bella, it's a hospital. Shows like Grey's Anatomy might be iffy on the medical details, but that stuff about the gossipping and the sleeping around and the backstabbing? Apparently fairly accurate. That information took me less than sixty seconds to obtain. And from what I heard, the three Cullen kids take turns coming to this thing with their parents every year, and this was not Emmett's year. Baby brother backed out at the last minute and your Prince Produce stepped up."

"All facts which point to him being possibly perfect, but not straight. Plus, let's not forget that I met him when he showed me how to pick out eggplant. Not exactly a checkmark under the "likes girls" column. My orders are up. Since you're not going to take pity on me and let me switch tables, I have to get back out there."

"You'll thank me for this later, Swan. Mark my words!" Angela said with a laugh as she pushed Bella towards the doors.

For the rest of the night, Bella managed to fulfill her duties as a server. Based on what she overheard as she wove her way through the tables, Angela's food was a complete success. There were no more weird moments at the Cullen table, but Bella was certain that at least half the table was dying to ask her what in the hell was going on. After she delivered their dessert course, she snuck out the back door of the kitchen to get some fresh air. She had driven in with Angela, so she couldn't bolt early, but Bella needed a few minutes of quiet, away from the happy buzz of the kitchen.

As she stared out into the inky black, Bella heard the tentative click of heels on concrete. Looking up, she came face to face with the gorgeous blonde from the Cullen table.

"Your friend from the kitchen told me I could find you out here. I'm Rosalie, and I swear, I'm not as creepy as this makes me seem. Honest. And Emmett absolutely does not know that I'm out here. It just seemed like there was something there, and I have a feeling that neither one of you is going to make the first move, so I'm nudging. That's all. Just a nudge. If I'm wrong, you can tell me, and I'll walk away, and we can all forget this ever happened."

"I...you're...he..." Bella struggled to find words, any words. Everything seemed to be getting caught in her internal filter and coming out in gibberish. Taking a deep breath, she started again. "You mean, he's not gay?" _Oh, excellent work, filter. From gibberish to completely inappropriate. _

Rosalie couldn't help but laugh. "No. He is decidedly _not _gay. Although, I'm flattered you think I would be an acceptable beard for a guy that good-looking. He's a great guy, one of the best. The only other thing I'm going to say is that if your number found its way into his possession, it wouldn't go unused. If you catch my drift. I'd better get back in there before they send out a search party. It was nice meeting you, and I really hope to see you again."

Flabbergasted, all Bella could do was stare dumbly as Rosalie walked away. When Angela came to get her to leave for the night, chattering brightly about what a success the evening was, Bella was still puzzling over how to get her number to a guest without looking like one of _those_ girls. With a sigh and a last look towards the building, she let herself be dragged to the car.

**-0-0-0-**

Two weeks later, Emmett was no more able to forget about Bella than he had been before he learned her name. Throwing his pencil across his office in disgust, he realized he hadn't actually made any headway at all on the project timeline he was supposed to be finishing up. "Head in the game, Cullen."

"You know, they say talking to yourself is the first sign of mental illness. Do I need to ask your secretary to start lacing your coffee with Xanax?" At the sound of his mother's voice, Emmett's head snapped up.

"That would only work if my secretary actually got my coffee, you know. How long have you been standing there, and what are you doing here?"

"I was in the office to pick up a contract, and I've been here long enough to know that I don't need to take your bad attitude personally. Now, why don't you take mercy on your office supplies and come join me for lunch? You can tell me all about this girl who has your head scrambled."

"Sorry, I just...wait a minute. Who told you about the girl?" Emmett's guilt at taking his bad mood out on his mother was replaced by panic.

"No one told me. I'm your mother, Emmett, I know things. Come on. I'll let you make up for your less than enthusiastic greeting with sushi." Proving that no one said no to Esme Cullen, Emmett grabbed his keys and followed her to the elevators.

To her credit, Esme waited until they had ordered to give Emmett her own version of "the mom look". When he was ten, "the mom look" could stop him dead in his tracks. He was dismayed to learn that he was just as powerless at 29. By the time the server set their lunch down in front of them, Emmett had spilled the whole sorry tale to his mom. With a glum look, he went about preparing his soy sauce.

"Do you really expect me to believe that you're just going to give up? Emmett honey, when you were nine, your little league team was down 12 points at the bottom of the 9th inning. Until the very last out, you were convinced that if you just wanted it hard enough, you guys could make a comeback. It took two mechanics, Rosalie, and four Roadside Assistance calls for you to give up on that Jeep. And you're going to let a little 'I didn't get her number' keep you from finding out how real the spark with that girl is?" Satisfied that she had said her piece, Esme focused her attention on the sushi and let Emmett stew for a bit.

"What if...I mean...it just seems like, maybe she isn't interested? She ran off the first day, and she could have given me her number at the Gala. Maybe it's time I stopped chasing after lost causes."

Dropping the piece of rainbow roll she was in the process of selecting, Esme fixed Emmett with a furious stare and pointed at him with her chopsticks. "Emmett Andrew Cullen, don't let me hear you talk like that again! You could have gone after her, you could have given her _your_ number. For all you know, she's thinking the same thing you're thinking. Now, I just happen to have gotten the number of the caterer for the Gala. "If you're quite through feeling sorry for yourself, I might let you be the one who arranges the catering for Edward's engagement party." At Emmett's look of shock, Esme couldn't help but laugh. "I told you, darling. I'm your mother. I know things. Plus, you told _Alice_. When are you going to learn that if you need someone to keep your secrets, you confide in Edward?"

Before he could come up with an appropriate response, the tinkling of the door caught his attention. With stunned disbelief crossing his face, Emmett set down his chopsticks. "You know, mom, that might not be entirely necessary. Excuse me, please." With a confidence betrayed only by the slight shaking in his hands, Emmett stood up and strode across the restaurant, while Esme looked on in shock.

As he made his way across the room, Emmett couldn't quite turn off the part of his brain that was in charge of self-preservation. _Danger, Will Robinson, Danger! Abort Mission! This is crazy! Stop. _Shaking it off, Emmett kept going. _It's like poker. Just go all in. You'll either lose your ass, or win big. Either way, at least you'll know. _As he approached her table, he took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and went for it.

"Okay, I know this seems crazy, but hear me out. I can't stop thinking about you. All I know about you is that your name is Bella, you work for a catering company, and I think I really want to know more. Maybe you keep running away because you're not interested, and if that's the case, say the word, and I'll go. But if that's not it, then can we just...see? That's all I'm asking for, just a chance." Unsure of what to say next, and suddenly aware that the eyes of an entire lunch crowd were on him, Emmett waited for a minute, and then turned to walk away.

"Library," came a hesitant voice from behind him. When he turned around with a quizzical look on his face, she clarified. "I work in a library. At the university. The catering thing, I was just helping out a friend." The woman sitting across from Bella grinned and waved. Bella paused just long enough to grab her purse from the chair next to her. As she rummaged through looking for something, she continued, "You're not crazy. Or, if you are, then you're not the only one." Pulling out a business card and a pen, she started writing. "We owe it to the aubergines, I think."

Taking the card from her, Emmett realized that now that he sort of had the girl, all of his bravado was gone. "Okay. Right. The aubergines. I...should let you get back to your lunch. It was nice to finally meet you, Bella who works in a library." With that, he fled back to the relative safety of his own table.

**-0-0-0-**

Listening to the phone ring, Emmett tapped his pencil on the edge of his desk impatiently. "Come on. Pick up, pick up, pick up."

"Hello?"

"How long after you get a girl's number do you need to wait to use it?"

"Oh, hi Emmett. I'm good, and how are you? Phone manners, much?"

"Look man, not all of us can worry about social niceties when we're freaking out. Just help me out, here."

"Okay, okay. I'm assuming this is about the girl with the eggplants who has you so captivated?"

"Does the entire family know about this?"

"Pretty much, buddy. You told _Alice_, for God's sake. And mom was with you yesterday when you suddenly relocated your balls. Her words, not mine. As to your question, just call the girl. If she's one of those girls who plays games about how long to wait between phone calls and can't accept a date fewer than 72 hours in advance, then she's not right for you, okay?" Edward took a deep breath and continued. "I can't believe I'm going to say this, and I will deny it if anyone ever asks me about it but...just be yourself. No games, no pretenses, just be you."

"Right. Me. Okay. Thanks, Edward. How's things?"

**-0-0-0-**

After an unproductive afternoon, Emmett gave up on his deadlines and decided to pack it in for the night. When he realized that he was too distracted by his own thoughts to focus on Call of Duty: Black Ops, he begrudgingly decided to take Edward's advice and call Bella. "Worst-case scenario, she doesn't answer and never returns the call. Well, not really. Worst-case scenario, she answers and mocks you. Oh God. Maybe Mom was on to something with that whole 'the first sign of insanity is talking to yourself' nonsense." Disgusted with himself, Emmett grabbed his phone and stalked out to his deck. Scrolling through his address book, he highlighted her name and hit "send" before he could back out.

"Hello?" Bella answered, sounding a little annoyed. The phone had rung at least six times, and Emmett belatedly hoped that he hadn't picked a bad time to call.

"Hi, Bella? This is Emmett Cullen. We met at the grocery store? I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"Oh, Emmett! Hi. Sorry for the cranky answer. You're not interrupting. I didn't recognize your number, and I thought you were the blood donation people again."

"I can honestly say that I am not from the blood donation center," he replied with a smile. He didn't know what it was, but something about Bella put him at ease at the same time that it tied him up in knots.

"Are you sure? I wouldn't put it past them to stage an elaborate series of meetings with a handsome guy just to lure me in. I'm starting to think they're part vampire."

"You know, I think I've heard of that scam. Except they tend to send their scouts to the butcher's counter. Too much risk of running into vegetarians in the produce section. Low iron levels make for non-ideal donors, you know." As Bella laughed in reply, Emmett couldn't help but marvel at his good fortune. _She said __**handsome**_, his inner voice crowed.

"A fair enough point, Produce Boy. So, since you didn't call to try to talk me into donating, what can I do for you?"

_Marry me? _he thought before he could stop himself. _I think you might be perfect._ Shaking that thought from his mind, Emmett went with his gut. "I was hoping you might agree to go out with me some night. At the very least, I'd like to see if my eggplant teachings have stuck with you. It's not every day I offer up my superhero services to pretty women in the grocery store, you know."

"Well," Bella began, and Emmett's heart sank. "I suppose it's only fair that you check to make sure that your efforts weren't in vain. You've got a deal, on one condition."

"Condition?"

"If I can demonstrate mastery of the 'Select the Perfect Aubergine' skill level, I think you should show me the secret to picking the best watermelon. One perfect aubergine does not a superhero make; I'm going to need further evidence."

"You drive a hard bargain, Miss Bella, but I am up to the challenge. Does Saturday work for you?"

"Saturday sounds perfect. Not to sound like too much of a rookie, but what does one wear for a produce picking lesson?" Bella replied, clearly digging for information about what their date would be. Had his brain been able to stop running victory laps and chanting _She said yes! She said yes!_, Emmett might have been astonished to realize that she had just agreed to a date without having any idea what said date would entail.

"You know, picking the perfect watermelon isn't always easy. Sometimes there's a little walking involved. And that's all the hint you're going to get, although you're welcome to try to charm more information out of me."

Laughing, Bella conceded. "Alright, alright. I'll trust you on this. So, pretty, huh?"

"Indeed. And on that note, I think I'll say goodbye for now, before I get myself into trouble," Emmett admitted. "Have a wonderful rest of your week, Aubergine Girl."

"You too, Produce Boy. And Emmett?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm really looking forward to Saturday."

"Me too, Bella. Me too."

**-0-0-0-**

Saturday morning dawned clear and bright, and Emmett realized with a sinking stomach that for all the thought he had put into the day's activities, he hadn't figured out what to wear. Then he realized that he was worrying about what to wear, and he went into full-on panic mode. _Oh God, I'm turning into a girl. All those girls who wanted me to be more sensitive, and I pick now to channel my inner Emma. _Sulking, he grabbed his phone and called the only person he knew who would be awake and helpful, without turning his trauma into fodder for every get together from now until eternity.

"Emmett, it's 7:30 on a Saturday morning. Unless there's some kind of emergency that I and only I can fix, I'm going to need you to hang up and call back after 10."

"Rosie, I swear on my favorite pool cue that you are the only person who can help me right now."

"Oh, this should be good. Hit me, Em. And if I decide that this emergency is just you being a freak, you'll pay in cheesecake."

"You've got a deal," Emmett answered quickly. "The thing is, I planned this date, and I don't even know if it's a good idea, but I'm going with it, because she's not a dinner and a movie type girl. I want to talk to her and see her and interact, not stare at a movie screen. So fine. But the date outfit is a dinner and a movie outfit. It is not a mini-golf and arcade outfit."

"You know, Em, the fact that you called me at the ass crack of dawn to fret about _clothes_ does not really do much for your continued insistence that you're straight," Rosalie cracked. Secretly, she was staring at her phone in open-mouthed shock. This rambling, nervous man was not the self-confident Emmett she knew and loved. More gently, she continued "What's this really about, big guy? This isn't like you. Nothing you've done regarding this girl has been like you. Not that I'm saying the world won't like a softer side of Em, but this is a bit much."

"I don't know. I just have a feeling. I don't want to mess it up with her, Rose. I think she could be special. She _is _special. And I get that that's kind of a crazy psycho thing to say, so I'm trying to curb my inner caveman, here. But yeah. I'm already on my third chance. Three strikes and you're out. I can't mess this up."

Wracking her brain for a solution that would look good, be comfortable and situationally appropriate, and help Emmett get a little bit of his old bravado back, Rosalie finally settled on what she hoped was the perfect solution. "Okay, here's what you're going to do. First of all, put on a pot of coffee. While that's brewing, set out your clothes. I'm thinking dark-rinse jeans, and a button down. Wear something blue, it makes your eyes pop. For God's sake, whatever you do, do not wear sneakers, or white socks."

"Right. Dark jeans, blue button down, no white socks. That's easy. Anything else?" Now that he had a plan, Emmett seemed a little more at ease.

"Yes, actually. Wear the gift I got you for your birthday," Rosalie replied. Her tone was serious, even if her suggestion was unorthodox.

"You want me to wear "Man of Steel" briefs? On a date? We're best friends, but you telling me what underwear to wear is taking it a little too far, Rose."

"Hey, hear me out. They're like your own personal in-joke. They're ridiculous, and funny, and they imply that you're a superhero. There's no way you can wear those underwear and not feel confident. And a little extra boost of confidence never hurt anyone. Besides, it's not like Bella will be seeing them-at least not tonight. I know you, Emmett. Just trust me on this."

Taking a deep breath, Emmett couldn't help but grin at just how well his friend knew him. "Alright. I'm taking your word on this one. If some terrible fate befalls me and the whole world sees my underroos, I'm counting on you to defend my honor."

"You know I've got your back, babe. Always. Two last things, and then I have to go."

"Hit me, Coach. I can take it."

"I think chocolate raspberry, for the cheesecake. And if this girl hurts you, I'll kick her ass."

As Emmett laughed, Rosalie hung up smiling.

**-0-0-0-**

Pacing the house while she waited for Emmett to arrive, Bella debated again the wisdom of leaving a note in the kitchen. Nothing major, just a clue in case anything happened to her. Really, what did she know about this man? Realizing she had at least ten minutes before he showed up, she quickly dialed Angela's number.

"No Bella. I do not think you need to leave a note on the kitchen counter that says 'If I go missing, I was last seen with Emmett Cullen'," Angela answered, not even waiting for Bella to speak. "Seriously, you need to chill out. You also really, really need to stop watching True Crime documentaries when you can't sleep. He's legit. Just relax. You're going to have a great time, and I promise that you will not wind up in pieces in the lake like that one made for TV movie where Fred Savage kills Candace Cameron and the only evidence left behind is a gardenia."

"I know you think I'm crazy. Hell, I think I'm crazy. This never happens to me, though. Never. I never get the cute, smart, funny guy. I get the weird stoner art students, or the guys who answer phone calls in the middle of dinner, or the cross-dressers just looking for an understanding woman to help them navigate the tricky world of women's hosiery," Bella said in a rush of words. "This guy is gorgeous, and funny, and smart, and he laughs at my jokes. I'm just really nervous."

"I know, honey, but listen to me. He laughs at your jokes. He thinks you're funny, and smart, and pretty. He's not a serial killer. And no one who looks that good in a tux would choose to wear pantyhose. You're going to be fine. Take a couple of deep breaths, and relax. If nothing else, this is going to make a great story one day."

"You're right. Thank you. I'm sorry I'm such a headcase about this. Oh God. I hope what I'm wearing is okay," Bella started to panic again.

"Bella! Focus! What you're wearing is fine. Your shoes are fine. Your hair is fine. You. Are. FINE! In fact, I'm so confident about this that I am not going to make the customary an hour into the date get out of jail free call. If you need me, call me. Otherwise, put the phone on silent and I will talk to you tomorrow."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Now get off the phone and wait for the guy. God knows you don't want him getting way-laid by any of your crazy neighbors. The busy-body at the end of the block will take one look at him and try to keep him forever."

"Okay. Thanks, Ange. I owe you."

No sooner had Bella hung up and stashed her phone in her purse than she heard a knock at the door. When she got to the door, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. _Here we go_, she thought to herself.

**-0-0-0-**

Twenty minutes later, as they pulled up to their first destination, Emmett tried to sneak a sly glance in Bella's direction to gauge her reaction. He supposed he should be happy that she was looking at him, but mostly, he was embarrassed that he got caught trying to stare.

"So," he began, clearing his throat, "here we are." Conversation in the car had been light, mainly centering around the unexpectedly warm fall they were experiencing, and how this year wasn't the "next year" the Cubs had been looking for. Now that they had arrived, however, both of them seemed at a loss.

"I knew it," Bella finally said, a quick grin appearing on her face. "The whole produce savant shtick was a ruse. You have no idea how to pick out a watermelon, do you?"

"I will have you know that I can pick a mean watermelon. Watermelon, musk melon, honeydew. You name it, I can pick it. Melons are one of my specialties."

Suddenly realizing what he had said, Emmett cut himself off in horror, and tried to avert his gaze. Unfortunately, the first place he looked was down. Panicked, he tried to look anywhere _but _at Bella. Mortified, he settled for closing his eyes and trying to unobtrusively do one of the deep breathing techniques that Alice had taught him when she was in her yoga and crunchy granola phase. That amazing laugh that had first drawn him in in the produce section at Whole Foods pulled him out of an internal monologue that sounded an awful lot like a major league umpire bellowing "Steeeeeerike three. You're out!"

"A melon man, huh? Well, as long as you aren't hoping that I'll wow you with my stellar mini-golfing skills, I think we'll be alright."

A fresh wave of panic crashed over Emmett. He hadn't even thought about the possibility that she wouldn't enjoy this date. _You are an idiot, Cullen, _his inner voice scolded. _A first-class idiot. _

"Oh man, I'm sorry. I didn't even think, do you want...we can do something else?"

"Hey, hey," Bella answered, putting a hand on his forearm. "I love mini-golf. I'm just not any good at it. Now come on, we're wasting daylight." With that, Bella opened her car door and shot him an expectant look as she moved to get out. "What are you waiting for, hot shot. Let's go!"

Something about her enthusiasm for a game she admitted wasn't good at helped to put Emmett at ease. Crossing to the front of the car, he took hold of Bella's elbow and led her into the clubhouse.

**-0-0-0-**

An hour and a half later, Emmett couldn't remember the last time he had laughed so much. After selecting the pink ball for herself, Bella quickly handed Emmett a neon green one. At his questioning look, she grinned.

"I'm just trying to save you the embarrassment of the inevitable blue ball jokes that will happen if you don't take the green. Although, the purple one does harken back to our eggplant-lesson beginnings, you don't strike me as the kind of guy who mini-golfs in lilac."

_Are you there, God? It's me, Emmett. I don't know what I did to deserve this, but thank you. _

What followed was, by anyone's standards, the absolute worst round of miniature golf mankind had ever seen. Three separate groups had passed them, because Emmett didn't have the heart to point out the "six strokes and you're done" rule to Bella. Mostly because she seemed to be having so much fun, but at least in part because he wasn't sure he could utter the phrase "six strokes" without making a fool of himself.

At the end of 18 holes, Emmett had a fairly respectable score of 48. Par for the course was 39. Bella's score was an abysmal 93, and the only reason she hadn't broken 100 was because Emmett had figured out after the fifth hole that she didn't notice if he shaved a few strokes off of her score. Terrible skills aside, Emmett found that Bella's carefree attitude was infectious. For the first time ever, he realized that he didn't care about the score at all. He was having a good time, and who cared if those sixth graders gave them the stink-eye when it took 16 tries for Bella to sink that little pink ball at the fifth hole?

As they headed back to the clubhouse to turn in their clubs, Emmett took a gamble and put his arm around Bella's shoulders. They had made contact during the round, of course, but this was definitely a step up from where they had been. _Nothing ventured, nothing gained, _he thought to himself. To his delight, Bella responded by sliding her arm around his waist.

"You know, I thought you were being modest when you said you weren't any good, Swan," Emmett teased as they exited the clubhouse and headed back to his car. "I've got to hand it to you, though. You are the worst mini-golfer on the planet."

"Hey, I did warn you," she retorted. "Besides, you should see me bowl. Let's just say that when they invented the electronic bumper guards that can go up and down for each bowler, everyone who knows me burst into applause. People are a lot more willing to be on my team now."

_I'll be on any team of yours you'll take me for, you crazy, gorgeous, amazing girl. _

**-0-0-0-**

After miniature golf, Emmett had taken Bella to the downtown area near his house. Dinner at one of his favorite local restaurants was followed by a leisurely stroll. It might have been a little cliched, but once the sun started to set, the evening was pleasantly warm, and the more they talked, the more he realized he wasn't quite ready to call the night over. They hadn't really talked about anything too deep, but Emmett still felt like he was learning a lot about who Bella Swan was. Realizing that they had finished their tour of the three blocks to downtown, Emmett suddenly thought of the perfect way to end their date.

"I have an idea. I think the fountain has provided all of the entertainment it has for the evening. Come with me?" As he stood, he held out his hand for her.

"Oh now, I don't know about that. Scarf-wearing emo teens will always have just a little more entertainment to provide. I'm pretty sure if we sit here long enough, we'll see at least one pre-teen with Beiber hair, and I think those two kids over there are trying to out-angst each other," Bella teased. Taking his hand, she smiled. "But you're the boss tonight. Where to?"

"You'll see," he answered cryptically. Leading her to his car, they made the short trip to a homey structure just a few blocks west. Pulling into the parking lot, Emmett saw not one, but two familiar cars. _Please God, _he thought, _let it be Vedran inside. _

"What is this place?" Bella asked curiously as they crossed the parking lot. "It's really cute. And small. I am intrigued."

"One of the ladies I work with and her husband opened this place a couple of years ago. Vedran, the husband, he makes amazing frozen custard. Just...he can be a little intimidating at first. His wife, Blanka, is one of the nicest women I know, but she's a little overwhelming."

"So you're saying you brought me somewhere to be frightened and overwhelmed," Bella asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No, no. Oh God. I was just trying to warn you. Forewarned is forearmed and all. Besides, Vedran is really only intimidating until he cooks for you," Emmett answered with a nervous smile.

As they entered the tiny building, they were greeted by two cheerful voices, one booming, one lilting.

"Emmett, friend! Where have you been? You are too good for Vedran now?" This, from a man so large in stature that Emmett looked small in comparison.

"Ahhh, Emmett! Who is your friend? You must introduce us immediately. She is beautiful." A sturdy blonde woman was hastily rounding the corner and headed towards Bella and Emmett with the speed of a small tornado.

"Blanka, you are beautiful, as always." Blanka giggled and blushed in response. Emmett continued with the introductions, "This is Bella, she's a...friend of mine. Bella, this is Blanka, and her husband Vedran."

"Hello," Bella offered with a wave. "It's nice to meet you. Vedran, Emmett tells me you make the best homemade custard he's ever had, and I'm dying for a taste." Looking around the restaurant, she turned to Blanka. "I would never have expected such a gem here. You must be the decorator behind the charm."

Glowing under Bella's kind words, Blanka and Vedran were a blur of activity as they prepared a sundae worthy of visiting royalty.

"Aren't they going to ask for our order," Bella whispered to Emmett.

"Oh, that's not exactly how it works here. You flattered them, you'll get whatever they decide is the best thing they can give you. I promise you'll love it, whatever it is," Emmett replied with a laugh. The laugh died in his throat when a beaming Blanka presented him with one sundae and two spoons. Behind the counter, Vedran shrugged as if to say _what can I do? Women, they have ideas._

Blanka and Vedran steadfastly refused to accept any payment for the sundae, and Emmett had a feeling that that was because Blanka knew she would be able to spy on them through the office window. Leading Bella back outside to one of the picnic tables in the garden area, Emmett couldn't help but shake his head at the comical way his friends had acted. Blanka's one driving motivation in life was making sure that the people she cared about were paired up. Vedran's greatest joy was feeding people. Emmett had probably made their entire week by bringing Bella in.

"So," Bella began once they were seated, "I hate to say it, but I think I'm too stunned by the last five minutes to tease you for bringing me into the lion's den for free dessert."

"What can I say? You didn't notice, but the guy at the mini-golf counter charged me extra before I left because he said he was going to have to retire your club. He was afraid you cursed it with your atrocious playing skills," Emmett teased.

Looking appreciatively at the sundae, Bella tried to find a way to get a ladylike bite out of it. Giving in to temptation, she hoped that the napkins she had grabbed on the way out of the restaurant would suffice.

"Oh, dear God. This is amazing," Bella exclaimed through a mouth of custard and toppings. "I have no idea what I'm eating, but it is officially the most amazing thing I have ever put in my mouth."

At that, Emmett did a double-take. "Wow. All of a sudden, my melon comment doesn't seem so bad." Laughing, he took his own bite of dessert. "Oh, wow. No, you're right. Someone needs to give that man a medal."

"I don't think a medal is going to cut it, honestly. Maybe a day in his honor? A statue? A building in his name?"

Emmett appreciated that Bella was not shy at all about digging in to the custard. There was nothing worse than buying food for a woman who then wouldn't eat it, at least as far as first date deal-breakers went.

"You know, I _am_ an architect. I'll see what I can do on the building front," Emmett answered with a grin.

"Make sure it's a good building. No strip malls or office complexes. Like, if you ever get called on to recreate the Palace at Versailles. That should be adequate," Bella joked.

After they had eaten their fill, they sat watching the last of the season's fireflies blink lazily. It was the quietest they had been all day, but Emmett didn't feel any strong pull to try to force conversation. Just sitting with Bella and enjoying the night felt right, somehow.

"I had a really nice time today, Emmett," Bella said, interrupting the silence. "Thank you."

"Thank you for agreeing to come out. I had an amazing time. I may have to send Whole Foods a thank you letter. Do you think they'll give me the name of the farmer who grew the aubergines?" He tightened his arm around her shoulders and smiled into the night.

Laughing, Bella gave him a small shove, and then snuggled in just a little bit closer. "Well, you know it had to have been a local farmer. I'm sure that those aubergine were organic. He probably coddled them, talked to them every night. I bet he'd appreciate knowing that they were sacrificed for a good cause."

"Bella?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm going to kiss you now, unless you tell me not to."

"So far, you haven't steered me wrong today. I'm not going to pick now to start questioning you."

**-0-0-0-**


	33. One Shot from MoonlitWishes

**Penname: **Moonlit Wishes

**Title: **All I Need

**Pairing: **Emmett/Edward

**Rating: **M/Slash

**Summary: **Over time, the memories of the faces of the people around me started to blur. But not his. Never his. A/N at the bottom.

"Oh, Emmett, it's going to be perfect!" squeaked Alice somewhere to my right. I heard her flick the lighter to light some more candles and smiled.

"You think so?"

"I know so!" she exclaimed, coming to sit next to me on the couch.

I laughed, a little nervously, I'll admit. Tonight was going to be huge. Make or break. Life altering and all that shit.

"I just hope I won't scare him running," I confessed in a sigh.

"You won't, silly," Alice assured me, slapping my shoulder lightly.

"How do I look?" I asked her, turning my head in her general direction.

"Dashing," she answered. "But are you going to keep your glasses on?"

My grin slipped a little, hopefully not enough for her to notice.

"Uhm…" I hesitated.

Since I was sixteen, I've hidden behind sunglasses. There were only a handful of people who knew how my eyes looked like; my mother, my father, Alice and Bella, and Edward.

"You should take them off," she encouraged in a whisper.

I nodded, then felt her tiny little fingers brush my forehead while she took them off for me.

"There," she said. "Beautiful man."

"Stop it, Allie, you'll make me blush," I grinned back. Other than my glasses, my humor was my armor. I needed it.

But she was right. I needed to take them off tonight, needed Edward to see my eyes.

"It's hot in here," I groaned, folding my fingers between my collar and my neck and trying to loosen it up.

"No, no!" Alice scolded, batting my hands away. "You'll mess up the suit!"

"Why am I in a suit again?" I asked her.

"Because tonight is going to be very important and you want to dress the part," she deadpanned.

I grinned, I couldn't help it. Alice was always so… fashion orientated.

"Alright, alright," I said, reaching out. She took my hand and guided it to her face.

I could feel that she was smiling by the curve of her cheek and my own smile responded to it.

"Thanks, little sis," I told her.

"Anytime, big bear," she responded, leaning in to kiss my cheek.

"I should get going," she continued. "He'll be here in like five minutes."

And just like that, all my nerves came swooshing back.

"Love ya!" she exclaimed, getting up off the couch. "Now, be careful with the candles, because they're _everywhere…_which reminds me, you should let Lexi stay in her kennel."

I whistled, hearing her jump up from wherever she was and walk toward me.

"Up," I told her, patting the couch, then feeling her weight as she jumped onto the couch next to me.

Alice sighed. "Okay," she said, resigned but amused.

"She'll stay on the couch, I swear," I assured her.

"Okay, big bear, I really have to go."

"Okay, thanks again," I said. "Tell Bella her big brother told her to stay out of trouble!"

"Will do!" she said and left, leaving me and Lexi alone.

I let out a shaky breath.

I felt the warmth of the candles on my body, the scent of them thick in my nostrils. I wanted desperately to see the small flames and the soft glow across the room like I remembered from before I had my accident, but resigned myself to feel it instead.

It was a stupid accident. No one's fault but my own. I slipped in the shower, fell, and cracked my head open on the edge of the tub. I was lucky to be alive, even though it cost me my eyesight.

I hadn't seen in ten years.

Edward had been on my football team. He really helped me through that period. Without him, I didn't even want to think about what could've happened. I'd either be dead or clinically depressed.

Each day, he spent hours and hours at my house, learning Braille with me, helping me adjust to the world without my eyes. Whenever some punk from school made fun of me… and trust me, they did… he was always the one to defend me on the spot.

The times he had started swinging punches at them couldn't be counted on two hands anymore.

He had even turned down _Harvard_to go to the same college as me. I'd vehemently refused, of course, but it wasn't up for debate. He was going wherever I was going and that was that.

Stubborn piece of shit, that man, let me tell ya!

It was in college that I realized we had grown much closer than any normal 'best friends'. We were always touching somehow. His hand on my thigh, my hand on the small of his back… I also realized that normal 'best friends' didn't get a raging hard-on when their 'best friend' touched them.

Our first kiss was… an eye-opener, I suppose.

He had initiated it.

We were sitting on the couch in our small apartment just off campus, courtesy of his parents. We were roughhousing, to be honest. Or at least, to an extent. Roughhousing with a blind guy wasn't like roughhousing with a guy who could see.

But then, suddenly, he was on top of me, straddling my legs, and my hands were on his hips and his lips were… _so close._

I licked my lips at the memory. We've been together ever since.

It was no surprise to our families. They'd seen it coming from miles away.

Tonight I wanted to make it official. I palmed the small, square-shaped box in my pocket, swallowing down some more nerves.

Lexi, who felt my anxiousness, whined and put her head on my knee. I stroked her head, smiling. She always made me feel better.

She looked up when we heard the key get stuck in the door.

I swallowed again, the butterflies in my stomach now turning into a full-blown tornado.

The door opened, his shuffling feet entered the apartment, the key got pulled out of the lock again and dumped on the small table next to the door.

"Emmett, I'm ho – whoa…"

"Hi," I squeaked, then cleared my throat.

"What's all this?" he asked, stepping further into the living room.

I told Lexi to stay and got to my feet while I listened to his footsteps coming closer.

"I wanted to surprise you," I said, thanking the gods for small mercies that I sounded normal at least.

"Well, you certainly did that," he laughed, right in front of me now.

His hands came down on my chest, his fingers splayed. A shudder worked its way up my spine.

It was nice to know I still had that same reaction after all this time with him.

"You look…" he started, his voice rapidly getting more and more husky.

I inhaled, his clean _Edwardy_scent filled my head and the storm in my stomach settled.

"… breathtaking."

"I'm glad you're home," I sighed, leaning in.

He responded perfectly, leaning in as well and meeting my lips half way.

My hands came up to find purchase on his hips, while his slid up and around my neck while we softly kissed each other hello.

His five o'clock shadow tickled mine, his nose huffing out his breaths against my skin and I immediately felt the stirrings of lust below my belt.

So, I pulled back.

I wanted love to be the main emotion tonight. Not lust.

I allowed my head to have a chance to stop spinning and sat down, taking him with me.

"How was work?" I asked him, sitting back.

He sighed, sitting back as well and resting his head on my shoulder.

"Boring and long," he answered. "Yours?"

"Meh, pretty much the same," I answered with a chuckle.

He nodded against me.

A comfortable silence fell as I put order to my thoughts. Part of me wanted to blurt it out now, another part of me wanted to drag it out, do all the romantic shit I was supposed to do, fall into an endless speech… verbally painting down my love for him… but I was never one for delicacy.

"Edward?" I asked, taking his hand in mine.

"Mmh?"

"Will you marry me?"

My voice was barely loud enough to be a whisper, but I knew he heard me. His body jolted, his breath hitched in his throat.

Another silence fell. Only this time it wasn't comfortable. It was horrible.

With each passing second, my stomach dropped further until I felt certain it was gonna fall outta my ass.

One minute passed…

… it felt like an eternity.

Another minute…

…I swallowed compulsively, my heart racing in my chest. To my horror, I felt tears spring into my eyes.

I pulled my arm back, sitting up straight and preparing to get up.

"Oh, god!" he exclaimed, his hands suddenly all over me.

"No, Emmett! Don't go!"

"It's okay," I smiled, a lone tear betraying me.

"Emmett, Emmett," he rushed. "Give me your hands. Gimme your hands so you can feel something! Please!"

I swallowed the lump in my throat and put my hands out for him.

He took them, guiding them to his face.

I gasped at what I found there.

Wetness…

He'd been crying.

"Is everything… are you okay?" I whispered.

"Okay?" he asked, his cheeks curving up with a huge smile as my thumbs brushed the liquid away from under his eyes.

"I'm more than okay, Emmett," he said. "I'm so happy I feel like I'm going to burst!"

"Really?" I breathed out. He nodded.

"So…" I prompted, still waiting for my answer.

"Yes, of course I'll marry you!"

All the air left my lungs in a whoosh, my heart skipped a beat and the biggest grin of my life broke out on my face.

"Really?" I repeated.

"Yes," he said, nodding into my hands.

Grinning, I slipped off the couch and on one knee in front of him.

When he stifled a laugh, I said, "Hey! Let a guy do what a guy's gotta do, 'kay?"

He laughed full out this time.

"Proceed."

I grinned wider, shaking my head as I reached into my pocket and took the box out.

I put my hands on his lap, tilting my head up at him and opened it.

"They're beautiful," he sighed, folding his hands around mine.

They were simple white-gold bands. My name was engraved in his ring in normal lettering, while his name was engraved in my ring in Braille. I could kiss the lady who helped me pick them out.

I took out the one that felt completely smooth to me and held it out for him.

I realized I was shaking as I slid it onto his finger.

More tears were brimming over now, this time out of pure love and happiness. When the ring was in place, I bowed my head over his hand and kissed the ring on his finger.

Then he took my hand and I felt the slightly cold metal of the ring being slid onto my own finger.

We both let out shaky breaths at the same time and I reached out to him.

I could hear him slide off the couch and felt his perfect weight settle onto my lap. His arms slid around my shoulders, his scent… soap, fresh, masculine… wafted around me and then his lips were on mine.

The kiss was gentle enough, but it had a current of urgency lying underneath and it wasn't long until he deepened it.

My hands roamed his back; from the narrowness of his hips to the width of his shoulders and back down again, I re-memorized every bump of his spine, every flex of muscle.

His hands were sliding down, over my shoulders, onto my chest and below.

Our tongues were wrestling for control, passion and lust rapidly fogging up my brain.

I groaned when one of his hands came up and fisted the short hairs on the nape of my neck, tilting my face up for even more entrance. Entrance I gladly gave him.

I fisted the back of his shirt. Soft cotton, not the crispy kind they used for dress-shirts and groaned again. I loved feeling the slide of that kind of cotton over his skin.

He pushed my open jacket off my shoulders and I let go of him long enough to take it off.

"Lie down," he whispered against my lips, dragging his own down to my jaw.

"God," I groaned. He knew it was my weakness when he kissed just underneath the edge of my jaw and he regularly used it against me.

I thrust my hips up as we sank back onto the floor. My now throbbing cock met his hard length through the layers of our clothing and I felt something akin to a frenzy build up in my stomach.

"I love you," he whispered, putting his lips back on mine before I could respond. I groaned when his tongue invaded my mouth again.

I felt him unbutton my shirt and the air hit my torso as it was revealed.

I put my hands on his back under his shirt and he moaned, the vibrations shooting down my throat.

He pulled back shortly and when he came back, kissing me again, I felt his naked chest brush against where I was naked.

I moaned this time, putting my hands on the sharp ridges of his shoulder blades.

"You're wearing too much," he told me breathlessly.

"Mmmh," I hummed. "Can't have that."

"No, can't have that," he whispered softly and his hands pulled on my arms until I was sitting up.

He started kissing my neck, his stubble creating a delicious burn on my skin, as he dragged the shirt off my shoulders and down my arms.

They got stuck at my hands. The cuff was buttoned and I couldn't help the laughter shaking my body.

"Dammit," he grumbled, taking my left hand in his and furiously working on the buttons. Every stroke of his fingers on my skin ignited a fire in the pit of my stomach and I bucked my hips up at him.

He gasped, one of his hands smacking down on my chest.

"Hurry," I ordered huskily, bucking up again.

"Fuck," he whimpered, his hand leaving my chest again. A sharp tug, the sound of buttons scattering across the floor and the sudden absence of the tight cuff told me he had ripped it open.

"Shit," I gasped, grabbing him around the ribs with my hands and lifting him off me and to the side. I rolled on top of him, putting my hand on his face as a guideline for my lips.

I bit his bottom lip, causing him to hiss. Grinding my hips against his, I was getting harder and harder by the minute.

His fingers dug into the skin and muscles just underneath my neck and dragged down, leaving a slight stinging sensation.

I grunted when he palmed my ass through my pants. My other hand was still stuck in the shirt and I momentarily let my weight rest on Edward fully to stick my fingers between the flaps of the cuff and tug; the shirt was ruined anyway.

I put my one arm next to his head, taking my weight off him again while he squeezed and groped me and flung the shirt off.

"Ungh," I groaned, pulling back from the mind-blowing kiss. "Can you… Oh, shit."

He was nibbling down my collarbone. "Edward," I laughed breathlessly. "Can you check if I didn't throw the shirt on a candle or something?"

Half a second later, his lips returned to my collarbone and he mumbled, "It's fine, you threw it on Lexi's head."

I snickered quietly when I heard her whine in agreement. He flipped us around again, straddling my hips and grinding his erection into mine.

"Fuck," I breathed, when he flicked the tip of his tongue over my nipple, making it pucker.

Torturously slow, he worked my nipples, one with his tongue, and the other with his hand until I was a shaky panting mess. My hands were in his hair, my hips rocking against his.

He dragged his lips lower, over the ridge of my pec. His fingers were tracing the muscles in my abdomen and I smiled. I knew he loved my muscles. It was the entire reason why I went through the trouble of going to the special needs gym half-way across the city. That, and the fact that I felt just because I'm blind, doesn't mean I have to get flabby.

"I love your abs," he moaned, swirling his tongue along the ridges.

I moaned back, the sensation of his tongue swirling over my skin causing my head to spin.

"Jesus," I hissed, when he roughly palmedme through the fabric of my pants. His tongue was continuously mover lower down on my torso, his fingers now undoing my pants, and my hips bucked in anticipation of what he was going to do to me.

When he started pushing my pants down, I lifted my hips to help and grinned when I heard his sharp intake of breath.

"God, Emmett," he grunted. He loved it when I went commando. It was a weird kind of passion of his.

The grin was successfully wiped off my face when I felt his tongue on the base of my dick, dragging upward until he reached the head.

I started panting, one hand coming down into his hair, fisting it until he started moaning, the other on his shoulder, squeezing.

The strands of his hair felt like silk against my fingers and I couldn't help the tightening of my digits when he swirled his tongue around the head of my cock.

"Fuck," I panted when his hand circled around the base, making my throbbing dick stand upright before he put his mouth around me.

Moans and grunts spilled continuously from my chest as he bobbed his head, his hand making twisting motions on every downward stroke, his tongue massaging the underside of my cock deliciously.

He pulled back, almost chastely kissing the very tip of me before running the tip of his tongue across the slit, gathering the precum that had accumulated there. I groaned; the action felt almost unbearably erotic.

I stroked my hands down his head until I was cupping his cheeks, feeling them ball and then hollow, ball and hollow, ball and hollow each time he bobbed his head up and down.

I felt the scruff on his face tickling against my hands and it added to the mind shattering experience of his actions.

"Ungh," I grunted when his other hand came up to play with my balls, his short, blunt nails scratching ever so slightly. He tugged gently and it was enough.

"Shit! Shit! Edward!" I shouted, warning him off my unstoppable release and he took me in deeper until I felt the tight of his throat around the head of my cock, clenching in swallows. I cussed my way through my orgasm, spilling into his throat, shocks making my body jerk.

He licked me clean, making my thighs quiver before he started kissing his way up my body until his lips found mine again.

The kiss that followed was fierce and passionate, teeth clashing, grunting and moaning.

I pushed on his body, needing to feel him under me again. My pants were still around my knees and I took the time to kick them off before I started working on his jeans, needing them off. He helped me slide them down his legs, growling in frustration when they got stuck on his sneakers.

He kicked them off with a grunt, his hands clawing at my shoulders.

I could smell the unique scent of his arousal even before I nuzzled his hipbone through the fabric of his boxer briefs.

"Mmmh," he hummed when I slid my hand, which was resting on his knee, up on the inside of his thigh. He had a small scar halfway and my fingers traced the outline of it, painting a picture in my mind. He had told me it was a shade whiter than his normal skin and I wondered how sharply it stood out.

I moved my face closer to where he wanted my mouth, closing my lips over the base of his cock through his underwear and he cussed, the following thud indicating he had thrown his head back.

My fingers slipped into the bottom of his underwear, easily reaching inside to scratch his balls and I smiled against him when he shuddered violently. I blew across the length of him, feeling his cock twitch up against my lips and the tightening in his balls as he did it.

"Emmett," he breathed desperately. "Stop teasing me."

I ran the flat of my tongue along his covered dick in response, relishing in the prolonged moan that left his chest.

I gently bit the head of his cock, once again feeling him twitch and a frustrated growl filled my ears.

"Emmett," he warned and I grinned, slipping my fingers under his balls and down to his entrance.

I teased the puckered skin there, all the while blowing hot breath over his hard length.

"Emmett." My name fell from his lips in a growl.

My chest quivered with barely restrained laughter and I gently applied pressure to his ass with my pinkie.

"Oh god," he panted, relaxing against my finger in the hopes of me slipping it in further.

"Please," he whimpered when I pulled back completely, sitting up on my knees.

"Ssh," I cooed, slipping my fingers under the waistband of his underwear and slipping it down his legs.

I returned immediately, wasting no time in taking him in my mouth.

He hissed sharply as I took him in deep, flexing my tongue against the underside of his cock, feeling the sharp vein that ran from the base to the tip and sucked, creating a kind of vacuum.

"Shit," he grunted, twitching in my mouth.

I pulled back long enough to speak. "Edward, there's lube in my pocket."

I didn't have to say more. His torso twisted away as I resumed my efforts in driving him crazy and he panted, grunted, and cursed while he retrieved the small bottle from the pocket of my pants.

As I bobbed my head up and down his length, I held out my right hand to him. I never stopped pleasuring him while he coated my fingers richly with the lube, all the while cussing and hissing under his breath.

When my fingers were prepped, I slid them between his cheeks, once again teasing the puckered skin around his hole and I heard an increase in his panting.

Steadily, I felt the muscle relax against me.

"Ah, ah, ah," he huffed when I gently pushed my index-finger inside. A prolonged moan escaped him as I pushed it in further, all the while struggling to pleasure him with my mouth.

"Stop," he breathed. "Stop, your mouth… it's too much… ah."

I released him from my mouth, resting my forehead next to his cock in the dip of his hipbone and panted a little. The thick atmosphere, his walls around my fingers, the fact he agreed to marry me… it was all getting to be a bit much.

Slowly, I fucked him with my finger, adding a second one when he was stretched enough.

His hands were still on my shoulders, clawing, his short nails biting into my skin.

"Come here," he huffed out as I worked my fingers in and out of him, caressing his prostate on every upward push, stretching a bit on every downward pull.

I climbed up his body, my fingers never leaving him, nor did I stop the slow rhythm I had built.

When I was close enough, his hands came around my face, pulling me to his lips.

He grunted in my mouth when I added a third finger. "Faster," he muttered against me and I obliged, sawing my fingers against his prostate until he was shaking and keening into my mouth. I felt his cock twitch against my forearm.

Lack of oxygen forced me to pull back and I panted, resting my forehead against his. He was panting, moaning and cursing like a sailor under my hands and I grinned.

"I need you," I told him, my own cock throbbing and aching.

"Please," he responded, nodding.

We shuffled around until I was resting in between his legs.

He lubed me up, his fingers sliding sensually over my cock and I groaned through the experience.

Finally I was pressing against him, his legs around my hips, arms tightly around each other and my face buried in his neck.

His breath halted while I pushed into him, slowly but steadily and I grunted, feeling his walls clench, tighten and then relax around my cock, allowing me to slide in further.

We both released heavy breaths when I was buried to the hilt.

"You okay?" I grunted through gritted teeth. This part was always uncomfortable for me when I was the bottom and I always had to make sure he was okay.

"I'm fine, Emmett, please," he whispered in my ear before licking along the edge.

"Fuck," I groaned, pulling my hips back until I was almost slipping out and then pushing back in.

"I can't believe we're getting married," he moaned in my ear. A strangled whine escaped my chest as his words shot straight to my head and down my body, leaving a wildfire in their wake.

I took his hand from my neck - the one with his engagement ring - and stretched it out above his head, tangling our fingers. I could feel the metal against my skin and my head spun.

"You'll be my husband," he continued, and my hips bucked violently, causing both of us to gasp in pleasure.

I gritted my teeth, I could feel that my eyes were open and I clenched them shut, kissing his neck.

"Let me see your face?" he whispered and I pulled back, not without difficulty. His free hand cupped my cheek while I slid in and out of him.

"Faster, please," he pleaded.

"Fuck, Edward," I grunted, upping my pace. Our hips were slamming against each other with every upward stroke. His cock was trapped between our bodies, rubbing against my stomach, making it slippery with his pre-cum.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, tracing his fingers over my cheekbone.

"Not as beautiful as you," I countered, leaning in for a kiss.

"Mmmh," he hummed against my lips.

"I love you," I said, grunting again. I was getting dangerously close to orgasm and by the way he was clenching around me, I'd say I wasn't the only one.

"Jesus," he panted. "Love. You. Too."

Each word he said was uttered on a different thrust and I was having difficulty staving off my orgasm.

"Edward," I whined.

"Let go," he encouraged. "I'm right there with you."

"Fuck," I grunted, my thrusts becoming harder and faster, sloppier.

"Yes," he keened, his thighs tightening around my hips.

"Yes. Edward, fuck! YES!" I shouted through my orgasm, squirting deep inside of him.

He grunted my name in a repeated cycle and I felt his cock lengthen and harden between us before he erupted, splattering his cum all over our stomachs.

With a groan, I collapsed, my arms quivering with the exertion of holding myself up enough not to squash him.

Carefully, and with my last remaining energy, I pulled out of him, both of us moaning at the loss of such intimate contact and let myself fall to the side.

"God," I panted, swallowing to try and relieve my suddenly parched throat.

"That was amazing," Edward said, also panting as he crawled on top of me, careful of both of our sensitive cocks, and splayed himself on my chest, his head resting below my chin.

I put my heavy arms around him, pulling him impossibly closer.

It was in moments like these where I wanted nothing more than to see. I wanted to see his dishevelled hair, the grin I could feel on his face, the excited spark I knew had to be in his eyes.

Over time, the memories of the faces of the people around me started to blur.

But not his. With perfect clarity, I could recall the copper shade of his hair, always in a disarray. The unfathomable depth of his emerald eyes, the emotions that were so easily readable in them. The sharp of his jaw, the straightness of his slightly large nose.

I tightened my arms around his shoulders, clutching him impossibly close and I told him of my burning desire to see him.

He took a deep, shuddering breath. "Emmett," he whispered against me and I felt a tight ball coil in the pit of my stomach.

"You have a chance," he said gently.

I shook my head immediately. "It's experimental. What if something happens?"

There was an experimental surgery to restore eyesight for cases like me. But the surgery was very new, very experimental and very, _very_ frightening.

"It has shown promising results," he countered in a whisper.

"Can we talk about it later?" I pleaded.

"Of course," he said, nodding.

He climbed off of me. "Let's go clean up, love," he said, his smile easily readable from his voice.

With exaggerating grunts, and laughter from him, I got up off the floor and pulled him close once more.

"We're getting married," I whispered.

"I know," he whispered back, happily.

We burst out laughing when Lexi gave one huge annoyed sigh from her spot on the couch.

**A/N:**

**Many sincere and heartfelt thanks to TrueLovEph28 for being the best big sister on the planet and making my little writer-ramblings look pretty.**

**Also, to Rosmarina Star for giving me endless feedback, pep talks and the courage to go through with writing my very first slash-piece, I couldn't have done this without her so big kisses and hugs to her!**

**To Winterstale, for pointing me out to this amazing compilation of my favourite fictional character ever!**

**To my prereaders, Sax and Demo****, for your sweet words, patience and the ability to jump from storyline to storyline while I changed my mind for this oneshot over and over again! I love you girls so hard! Also to Cynthia, for being such a sweetiepie that it makes me want to hug her close and never let go! **

**To the wonderful women that host this compilation!**

**And lastly, to you! For giving my oneshot a chance and hopefully not completely hate it! Love! **

**Moon.**


	34. A Drabble from WonkeyGirl

**Penname**: WonkeyGirl

**Title**: Winter Came too Soon

**Rating**: T

* * *

"Do you think we should get the lilac or the baby blue," she says, peering in through the window. She's glowing, just like the first time I saw her - glowing and golden and bright, but even then, in the half way point between being and beyond, I could see that she was unfinished; like the leaves on a tree just turning at Fall's command, just waiting for their big moment… and then a mean cold snap rushes in and cuts them off right before they're into full-on glory.

"Or maybe Moss Green would be better." She puts a finger to her mouth as she mulls it over. There's this light about her that has her almost vibrating, and her eyes are dancing - they have been all afternoon and she's almost glorious.

"What?" She's frowning up at me, curious, and even though she's frowning, she's smiling, and even her smile is free…free of the hesitation that's almost always there at the corners that don't quite fully curve upwards.

Her eyes are dancing again as she steps towards me.

_Dancing, golden and warm and light_. _Yeah_… like the lightning bugs me and Little John used to catch in jars on the back porch when we were kids. I'd just about get hypnotized, watching them spark and glow, bouncing around the inside of the glass. Little John always wanted to keep them, and I'd convince him they'd be much happier flying free and when his mouth turned down and he'd get looking sadder than a kid who'd just found the bottom of the cookie jar, I'd always promise him we could catch more the next night - that always had him smiling again.

"Emmett?"

Even her voice vibrates - though it's a whisper. I can hear the carefree giggle, beneath the surface, that just wants to be. I want her to be like this always, just free. She deserves to be free and it just about tears me up that I can't give it to her.

"What are you thinking about?" Her arm snakes around my waist and she's behind me. Her chin presses into my shoulder and she hugs around my middle. "Where did you go to?"

_Heaven_.

I'd give her heaven if I could.

"Nowhere," I reply. "Why don't you buy all of them?"

She hugs me tighter, and then lets go. She disappears into the store and I watch as she passes a table of hats and tiny knitted shoes, picks a set up, turns them over in her hands as if they might hold the keys to, well, everything. My mother used to look this way, as she held her beads and prayed: peaceful, connected, complete.

She decides on the tiny little shoes, and a hat, takes a step away and then turns back, picking out another three sets, nods in satisfaction, and continues on towards the clerk who's hanging back because she can see she's going to get a great sale out of the woman who's just entered. I know the assumptions she's making – who wouldn't? She has that radiant new mother thing going on - and I hope she doesn't open her mouth and let any of them out.

With each step my wife discovers more items that beckon to her, and with each discovery her whole body seems to vibrate more, each step more like how I imagine she would look as a child; skipping along without any thought beyond her getting to the corner store and digging her hands into a jar of butter candy.

She's almost to the counter now, and she passes a display of soft toys. She looks down at her arms, at the items threatening to burst out from her grasp, looks back at the toys, shuffles around, shoulders working as she squeezes her loot into one arm. A rattle falls to the floor, bouncing away and under a table. The store clerk rushes forward, loading the small mountain into her own arms, freeing Rosalie's to explore and touch and coo over.

She picks up something that looks like a headband with a red bow attached to it, and I half expect her to start dancing around. I wish she'd let Alice come with us; Alice would be the extra push needed to kick this into a high octane, unstoppable, free-flying ride of exhilaration.

The store clerk returns, carrying a velvet and lace dress so small I can't imagine it fitting the child for more than a day or two. She's smiling brightly, and then she opens her mouth.

"I'm guessing this is your first?"

I have only a second left and I take every bit of her in that I can, I don't trust my photographic mind to remember this: the lightness, the vibrating, the smile that's free, and the dance in her eyes. I'm holding my breath, as if I can somehow prevent it all from fading, but then it's gone. I see it drain away from her, like the way a catch slowly slips into death.

And she smiles, those corners not quite turning up, and shakes her head saying that it's her sister in laws baby.

The store clerk fails to pick up on the change in mood, and to a human it's probably indiscernible. She takes Rosalie's hand and leads her further into the store. The two walk towards the back of the place, the clerk pointing out item after item, Rosalie mutely following; it's all there in the way she carries herself, the way her hips sway with each step, the angle in her shoulders, heck it even translates into the swing of her hair: graceful, beautiful, unfinished.

I love her, all of her. I want to be that last bit of summer, just enough warmth so the leaves can give their all and birth themselves into one last, amazing act…

"You're there again." She's standing at the window again, hands full of bags stuffed with polka dotted tissue paper.

She tilts her head, smiles that almost smile. I reach forward, taking the bags from her. She wraps her arm around my waist, squeezing a little harder and a little longer than usual.

I kiss the top of her head.

We walk along the street, huddled together as if we needed the extra warmth, silent because we both know where the other is.

At the corner we stop, waiting for traffic. She tips her head; the streetlights glint in her eyes as she looks skyward.

"It's early for snow," she says. "Wasn't it October last year?"

I watch as flakes start to fall.

She sighs. "I wanted to show her the leaves turning."

I kiss her once more on her forehead, just as the crossing turns to green.

"Maybe next year," I say.


	35. One Shot from TeacupsNMints

**Penname: **teacupsNmints

**Title: **The Super

**Rating: **M

**Pairing: **Emmett & Bella

**Summary**: Emmett McCarty works a crappy job in a crappy apartment building two hours from home and believes he deserves nothing better. But when he stumbles upon a mystery girl crying on the floor outside of one of the apartments it just may change his life. Do we always get what we deserve? Or is it possible Emmett may just deserve what he gets?

* * *

I grabbed my plunger and the snaking wire and headed toward the stairs. 2C. Fucking, Ms. Hale! If she'd just quit flushing her tampons down the damn toilet, I'd stop having to snake the fuckers out! I wondered if that woman was just too damn lazy to throw them in the trash, or if it was her way of getting me into her apartment. I tended to think the latter. Rosalie Hale was a good fifteen years older than me-give or take a decade. It was tough to tell by her face. Booze will steal years in a heartbeat and it was impossible to tell exactly how many she'd been robbed of. The many tiaras and pageant trophies lining the shelves in her living room served as evidence that she'd not always been an unemployed alcoholic living off of alimony. You could still see the remnants of her glamorous youth hidden within the alcohol induced lines on her swollen face. The dozens of pictures on her walls told the story of a younger, happier Rosalie Hale. They each depicted a proud and smiling beauty queen-someone completely the opposite of who we now knew here at Forks Manor. Usually complaining about something, the only smile I ever got from Ms. Hale was covered in too much lipstick which she put on as an attempt to woo me into her bed. If she ever made the attempt sober, I might actually take her up on it-I am a guy, after all. And it had been a while. But I definitely wouldn't feel good about it the next day.

I reached the second floor and stopped dead in my tracks. On the floor in front of the apartment next door to the "Hale Hole" sat a stranger. And she was crying.

_Okay. _

What was I supposed to do? I should have asked if she was lost. But that might have involved continuing a conversation. I could have asked her if something was wrong.

But that might have involved her actually telling me and my having to console her. I could have just walked past like I didn't see her. That would be the thoughtless and uncaring option. And seeing as thoughtless and uncaring seemed to work for me, I did just that.

Ms. Hale opened her apartment door promptly after the first knock. She almost wore a gold tank top, her breasts spilling out over the top. Her long blond hair hanging over her shoulders was all that kept her from being completely revealed. Her bottom half sported leopard-print, spandex pants. They rested snugly just below the pooch of a belly that had probably once been remarkable abs. A butterfly tattoo, now looking more like a lost moth, adorned her pelvic bone. "I've been waiting for you to...uh...fix my plumbing." Her words were raspy and her breath smelled of vodka and stale cigarettes. She draped herself across the door frame and when I tried to enter, she showed no intention of moving aside.

I did my best not to make eye contact, focusing instead on the black high heeled shoes she was wearing. "I need you to step aside, Ms. Hale, so I can get in there and do my job." I spoke with all the patience I had to offer, which wasn't much.

Her fingers landed on my shoulder and traced the outline of muscle she found there. She moved down my arm until she placed her hand in mine and led me to the bathroom. I already knew how to fucking get there. She called just about every day. It'd already been 3 times this week and it was only Thursday. She never had a problem in the main bathroom off of the living room. No. It was always the one off of her bedroom.

"You are always SO good at your job, Emmy. But I bet you are good at lots of things."

The little swirl pattern she was tracing on my forearm with her fingernail was making me nauseous. And nothing could make me feel more masculine than being called "Emmy." It wouldn't matter what she said. Ms. Hale's attempts at seduction were always fouled by the slur of her words and the stumble in her stride.

_It's Friday, Emmett. Just a few more hours and you can finally go home for the weekend__._ I told myself.

Shortly after stepping into her bathroom, I discovered there _was_ no plumbing emergency. Her toilet was fine, other than it needed to be cleaned. She may have wanted me to attend her plumbing needs but it had nothing to do with her toilet. I grabbed my plunger and started walking back the way I'd come.

"Where are you going? You just got here," she said

"I don't have time for games Ms. Hale. There are other people in this building with real problems, needing real repairs." There were no other calls for me at the time, but she didn't need to know that. I would have said whatever it took to get me out of her apartment.

"But what about my needs?" she shouted. "I have needs!"

She latched onto my arm and was repeatedly shouting that sentence in a drunken slur as I struggled to get back out into the hall.

That's when I noticed _her_. The girl I'd ignored on the way in. She was still on the floor beside the door. I knew it wasn't right. She was a stranger. She owed me nothing. She was crying for Christ's sake! But I did it anyway.

Using the best impersonation I could of someone capable of caring for another human being, I spoke in the direction of the stranger on the floor. "Hey, baby! There you are. I bet you've been looking for me."

The girl moved just a bit and I could now tell her face was bright red and her eyes were swollen. I actually felt a little bad, but mostly because I was afraid she was going to ignore me. I tried again, this time placing my hand on her shoulder.

"No reason to cry, baby. I'm here now," I said with enthusiasm, rubbing and consoling her, hoping she'd play along. _Selfish bastard._

She looked up. Her large brown eyes rimmed with red; wide and soulful.

"Okay?" Just that one word left her lips, more of a whisper than anything, but I realized it must have been enough when I heard the door slam behind me.

_Thank God! _

I immediately took her hand and pulled her up from the fetal position she was in on the floor. She must have been there quite a while because her legs had gotten stiff, causing her to stumble. I wrapped my arm around her shoulder to steady her.

"Man, I don't know who you are, but thank you so fucking much!" I whispered. "That pickled bitch has been trying to get into my pants ever since I started working here." She just looked at me, her eyes still wide. Her mouth sat open. She said nothing, which is actually a trait I normally like in women, so I felt compelled to continue. "If I push her away, she complains to my boss. And I _really_ need this job."

She opened her mouth to speak, but only a squeak came out. That's when I realized she'd probably been crying for a really long time.

"Shit. I'm sorry. Here I am only worried about my own ass."

Although she'd not spoken but one word, I owed her. I felt a sudden need to make things right for her...at least for the moment anyway.

"I'll be right back. Don't move."

I ran the three flights down to my apartment in the basement. Actually, it was the janitor's closet. But it was large, wired, and had running water. The owner of the building agreed to let me set up a cot and a tiny fridge in there. Since I was working two hours from home, it allowed me a place to live during the week to save gas and I could steal home on the weekends to spend time with Heidi. And Mr. Newton could advertise a round-the-clock super on the premises to lure in renters. Win. Win. As much as I loved her, Heidi could be really demanding. She was a lot of work. So, the time during the week when I had my freedom from her had become a bit of a guilty pleasure.

I grabbed a bottle of water and headed back up the stairs.

Taking the steps two at a time, I was concerned that the girl with the red eyes and tear stained cheeks would be gone when I returned. And that fact alone puzzled me, because I usually gave a shit about nobody but myself.

When I rounded the corner after clearing the stairs, she sat right where I'd left her. Digging through her purse, she pulled out her phone and a small notebook. I stood back a moment, allowing her privacy.

"Hello. Yes, this is Bella Swan. I know I'm supposed to begin subbing for Mr. Molina on Monday, but I'm afraid I need to back out. Umm..." She began to cry again, so hard she couldn't finish speaking.

I took the phone from her hand, unsure who I was speaking to. "Hello. No, disregard that call. It was a prank. You know...kids. I assure you Miss Swan will be at work bright and early Monday morning. That's right. You're welcome. Bye,"

I handed her the phone, smiling. I was met by two very red, very angry eyes.

"What the hell did you do that for?" she squeaked.

"To help you keep from losing a job. They are few and far between these days, you know." I sure knew. It was why I was stuck working a shitty job hours from home.

"Well, it's going to be awful hard to work at Forks High while I'm on a plane back to Phoenix!" And she began to cry again.

"Here," I said, extending my hand with the water.

She sniffled, rubbed at her tears and took my offering. "Thanks," she said as she subtly inspected the bottle before taking a swig.

Suddenly remembering what Mr. Newton had said about a new tenant moving in, I asked "Are you the new 2D?"

"I was supposed to be." I watched as her chin began to shake. "Shit! I signed a lease. How am I going to get out of that?"

I shook my head. "With old man Newton, you're not. You might as well grab your things and bring them in. He doesn't let anyone out of a lease as long as it means money in his pocket." And that was the truth, greedy fucker!

Before I even knew what was happening, the waterworks started all over again. _Walk away, McCarty. You don't even know this girl._

"Did you lose your key?" I asked. For some fucking reason still wanted to help her. "Is that why you're so upset?"

She shook her head. "No".

"Homesick?"

"No," she said.

Jeez. It was like playing twenty questions with Heidi when she was being inconsolable and stubborn.

I took my master key out and unlocked her door. I didn't want anyone to think I was the reason she was crying. "Let's at least move inside and sit..." I looked in and the place was completely bare. No furniture. No nothing.

"Where's all your stuff?" I asked as I took her arm and helped her inside, although she was completely capable of walking.

"It's all in storage," She said, her chin still quivering.

"Did you arrange for movers?" I asked.

"No. My...boyfriend was supposed to help me." With those words the damn burst.

The girl was an absolute mess. Her face was red and puffy and covered with tears and snot. I knew I should probably offer to console her. If she was my daughter, that's what I'd want someone to do, right?

I no sooner uncrossed my arms to set my plunger down when she threw herself at my chest, her wet snotty face all over my shirt. I might have liked this girl pressed against me...her swollen lips...her chest heaving with each breath...the warmth of her body making my dick take notice. I might have...if she hadn't been such a soggy fucking mess.

But I continued to allow her to hold me anyway, because I'm such a stand-up guy. And it was only my work shirt. Hell, Yorkie Cleaners could deal with it. Put it on Newton's tab.

And then, when she didn't stop crying and I had no fucking clue how to make her stop, I left her there. I left her sitting on the floor in her apartment. I didn't know what else to do. She seemed a little better than when I'd found her. Well, she'd stopped snot-sobbing anyway.

I had to leave. Heidi was expecting me and I just couldn't bear to let her down. It wasn't my problem. That's what I kept saying to myself. But, as I merged onto the highway, I felt sort of shitty anyway. I just didn't understand why.

**0~0~0**

I woke up before my alarm would normally have gone off, if I had set it and had it not been the weekend. I sat straight up in bed wondering what the fuck I was doing but decided to get up anyway. I carefully removed Heidi's arm from my chest. She looked so peaceful lying there. It was hard to believe after she'd been so physically demanding the night before. I was sure to be covered in bruises. It always amazed me how someone so tiny and seemingly fragile could cause so much damage. That's one of the things that impressed me most about her; she was small but mighty. I couldn't help being crazy about her, even if her moods did change without warning.

I blew Heidi a kiss as I left the room. Downstairs I grabbed my keys from the table by the door and walked out to my truck. I couldn't imagine why I was doing it. But I couldn't seem to help myself. Normally I drove the Jeep to work. But today, on my day off, I drove two hours back to that shitty building in my gas guzzling truck for a girl I didn't even know. _What a pussy._

As I walked up the two flights of stairs I prayed that Ms. Hale was already too pickled to make it out her door. I knocked at apartment 2D. Nobody answered. Ignoring the fact that I could be waking her up, or her boyfriend may have returned or I could find her suicidal corpse on the floor, I used my master key. Fuck it. I'd just driven two goddamn hours, I had rights.

I opened her door and peeked in. _Jesus Christ_! She was exactly where I'd left her the night before, but curled up into a little ball and sound asleep.

Unsure of what the hell to do, I tiptoed over and tapped her on the shoulder. She never even flinched. Then I thought about how ridiculous it was that I tiptoed over just to wake her up and I started to laugh. That's when her eyes popped open and her body jolted straight up.

"Hey...um...Bella." I couldn't believe I remembered her name. "It's okay. I come in peace." _What the fuck was I saying?_

She looked at me for a minute like I was foreign to the planet or something. And then she giggled. The red-eyed girl actually laughed.

"I come in Peace? What, No _Me Tarzan- You Jane_?" She laughed.

She's a smart ass. Perfect. I respected that. "I thought you could maybe use some furniture." I shrugged. "I brought my truck."

"Seriously?" she asked. "Oh my god! I was _that_ pathetic, wasn't I?"

"No, not at all. Not in a fetal position on the floor way, or anything." I smirked. "Oh, wait. Actually you were." She wasn't the only smart ass in the building.

During the next eight hours I learned all about Bella and her asshole ex-boyfriend, James. They'd met three years ago at Washington State. Bella had originally stayed with her grandfather in Seattle until he passed away her junior year. Then, she moved to the dorm. But when Bella graduated, there was a hiring freeze for teachers so she had to move back to Phoenix with her mom. After several months of a long distance romance, James begged her to return to the Pacific Northwest for him. So when she was offered a long-term sub position at Forks High, she took it. Bella found Forks Manor on the Internet and had all her stuff shipped to storage until the apartment was available. Then, when she caught an earlier flight in order to arrive a day early and surprise James, she caught him in bed with a friend of theirs from school. Apparently they'd been sneaking around together all along. Bella said she'd had second thoughts about moving and that her mother had tried to warn her about James. She hadn't told her mother what happened yet. There was no hurry. She was too proud to run home with her tail between her legs. She said she'd decided to stick to her plan, without James, and just make it work.

It didn't even bother me when Bella unloaded all her shit on me. And this time she only shed a few tears. In fact, I was kind of impressed by the ease at which she could talk about it. Hell, I never even mentioned Heidi. Not once. I know that was kind of shitty of me. I should be upfront with her. Honest. Good guys are honest. But who the hell was I kidding? I wasn't exactly what you'd call an upstanding citizen.

"You really are sweet to have come all the way over here to help me," she said as I unloaded the last of her things.

"Don't say that! Don't ever say it," I told her, a little more forcefully than I should have. _That's all I'd need fucking Ms. Hale to hear._

"What? Don't say what?" she asked with wide eyes.

"That I'm sweet. Or nice. Or even civil. Don't even think of spreading that shit around here."

"Why do you care? I wouldn't have taken you for a guy who gives a crap what anybody thinks."

"If people think I'm soft, then they'll expect me to do all sorts of extra bullshit favors and odd jobs. I'm not having any of that."

"Oh, but it's too late," she said, smirking. "I already heard you were very...err...generous."

"Who said that?"

"The neighbor lady. You know. The one you _**used me**_ to get away from last night." She winked, blew me a kiss and closed her apartment door. I stood there, stunned. I didn't walk away until I heard her dead bolt click.

The girl next door had been more coherent than I'd thought. And she wasn't even pissed off.

Fuck! I could actually like this girl.

**0~0~0**

It had only been 3 hours since I left Bella, but she was all I could think of. That left me feeling like shit because, if all I thought of was Bella, where would that leave Heidi? And Heidi should be the only one I'm thinking about, right? My number one girl.

I came home to find Heidi having lunch with my mom. I got a ration of shit from them both. _Where were you? Who were you with? Why were you gone so long?_

I realized it was too late now for me to even try to change. I was crazy to think things could be different. My life had been chosen for me. It was a choice I'd made three years ago and there was no going back now.

I pushed thoughts of 2D out of my mind and spent the rest of the weekend with Heidi. I made sure she felt like she was the center of my world. I took her out to her favorite restaurant. We went swimming after dark in the pond behind our house. I even painted her toenails after giving her a sponge bath. I knew I was spoiling her and would pay dearly later, but I couldn't help myself. I guess it was the guilt.

I didn't see Bella again until Tuesday. I was actually off the clock but found myself wandering around her floor anyway.

As I came around the corner she was unlocking her door. "Hey." I said, ignoring the fact that I should have kept on walking.

"Hi there," she said. _Damn, I couldn't help smiling whenever she did. _

"I missed seeing you around yesterday," I confessed, mentally bitch slapping myself.

"Yep. I started at Forks High. Stayed late grading papers and collapsed when I got home."

"Molding the minds of the future," I said. I don't know why.

She laughed and I started to laugh with her. It was too easy talking with her.

"That's pretty scary, huh?" she said.

"I don't know." I told her. "Kids are pretty mold-able."

"Okay. Maybe. But I really shouldn't be allowed within like 100 yards of children, any children. Not if they're going to depend on me for anything. I can't even take care of myself, let alone anyone else. Obviously."

I laughed, since I felt pretty much the same way about myself most of the time. "I take it today went better since you're actually here before dark and able to stand upright for more than a few seconds."

"Yes. I guess it did." She smiled.

"Well, then that's a reason for celebration. I'll be right back."

"Hey, thanks for grabbing the phone and squaring things away for me with Mrs. Cope." I heard her say as I headed down the stairs. "I don't know what I'd have done without a job."

"That's what friends are for," I shouted back. "Right?" Like I'd fucking know what friends do. All the friends I ever had before Heidi entered my world were drunks and losers. I unlocked my office and grabbed two cans from the fridge before heading back upstairs. _Is that what we were?_ I wondered. _Friends_?

"It's not champagne, but it'll do in a pinch," I said, thankful that Bella hadn't gone inside and closed the door.

"Rainier?" She said with raised brows. "I haven't seen that stuff since I stole a can from Grandpa Swan's fridge when I was thirteen."

"No dissing the Vitamin R," I said as I popped one open and handed her the can.

She invited me in and I immediately tried out a leather recliner that I remembered being a bitch to move. At least it was worth it. Stretching back, I looked around. The place looked really different from the last time I'd seen it. It was nice. I had seen all the furniture and stuff when I emptied her storage unit. But now she had arranged everything and it looked really nice. Complete. It was the kind of place that deserved appreciation. Any man would be proud to call her place their home...to raise a family there. That's what she'd done. In less time than it takes me to finish a crossword puzzle, Bella had turned that bare apartment into a home. It even smelled like home.

"I suppose your stopping by had absolutely nothing to do with the pot roast I put in the slow cooker this morning," Bella said, though it sounded more like a question.

"You mean the aroma that had my stomach growling since 10am? Nope, I hadn't noticed." She giggled and I hoped she'd ask me to stay. I never accepted meal invitations from residents. I didn't like to feel like I owed anyone anything. But this felt different. Maybe it was because I helped her out. Or could it be because I actually wanted to owe her?

**0~0~0**

Dinner was amazing. Not even my mom could top Bella's pot roast. And I wasn't just saying that because I was still pissed off at her for getting into my business. And the company couldn't be beat. It was easy and comfortable, like it always was with Bella.

It was the first time in a ridiculously long time that my meal actually included enjoyable, sophisticated conversation. Not that it was rocket science or anything. But it was nice to talk about anything that might actually be found in the newspaper. Bella was smart and funny and not at all afraid to say exactly what was on her mind.

"So, do you make random house calls on a regular basis?" she asked.

"Oh, hell no," I told her. "If I don't see another nasty-ass toilet or clogged up sink for the rest of my life it'll be too soon."

"You ever had dinner with a resident before?"

"A US resident? Yes. A Washington State resident? Yes," I teased. "A resident of Forks Manor? No fucking way."

"Ah. So I'm your first?" she jeered.

"You most definitely are," I said, enjoying the playful double meaning.

"I feel so...scandalous!" she said.

"And you should," I assured her. "I don't eat around with just anyone."

"Well, your secret is safe with me. I make it a rule to never eat and tell."

The only thing stopping me from leaping across the table and kissing the shit out of the girl was gravity (after eating so much fucking roast) and the fear that this little 80lb chick might actually be able to kick my ass. I knew she could definitely hurt me. So I remained a _not so_ perfect gentleman with my clever sexual innuendos, but I kept my hands in my lap. I was pretty sure that's exactly where they'd end up when I returned to my office for the night.

_Shit_. I was in deep.

**0~0~0**

_"Oh Emmett," she purred as my knee pressed against the place between her legs. Her tongue moved swiftly in my mouth causing my arms to move up and down her body._

_"Damn, baby. You are so hot."_

_"No talking…" she whispered__,__ her breath hot on my neck. "…just kissing."_

_Her hand dangled dangerously close to the hardness beneath my pants until I couldn't take it anymore. In one sweeping motion I turned us both over until she was lying beneath me, her head on my pillow, her eyes smoldering. Hot. _

_"I need you so fucking bad__,__" I said as she began undoing the buttons on my pants. I pulled her shirt over her head, happy to discover nothing else came between me and her flesh. I took one luscious breast between my lips, tonguing the rosy tip. She released a tiny moan followed by my name which seemed to tumble from her lips, "Emmett..." Damn!_

"...Emmett! God, please tell me you're in there!" I woke to a frantic voice and incessant pounding.

"Bella?" I jumped to my feet and threw open the door, completely forgetting I was only in my boxer briefs.

Although, compared to Bella, I was totally overdressed. She stumbled into my room wearing only a tiny white towel.

"Not that I'm complaining...but what the hell?" I asked, grinning like a mother fucker. If she hadn't looked like she was ready to kill somebody, I'd have thought I was still dreaming.

"!" she said without ever taking a breath.

_Sweet!_ "Oh, so you need Emmett here to open your door?"

"Yes."

I smiled at her, seriously working the dimples.

"Please?" she asked.

"You come in here banging on my door..."

"C'mon Emmett..."

"Wake me out of a beauuutiful dream..."

"Pleeeeease!"

"And now you need me to go to work before I'm even on the clock?" I teased.

"Seriously, Emmett, I'm going to be late for school."

"No problem," I said.

"Thank God!" She sighed.

"But for a price."

"Anything," She agreed.

It came out of my mouth before I could even stop myself. "Let me make you dinner."

"That's it?" she said. "Hell, I figured I'd be snaking Ms. Hale's toilet for the next year."

I laughed, wishing I'd thought of that! "But I'll have to use your kitchen. I can only do so much with a microwave and a hot pot."

The rest of the day was a blur. A blur scattered with images of Bella. _Bella that first day on the floor by her door. Bella laughing when I dropped her headboard on my toe. Bella spooning pot roast onto my plate. The Bella from my dream._

I picked up ground beef, tomato sauce, kidney beans, onions, cheese, saltines, and a variety of herbs and spices and cannot name _(I could tell you, but I'd have to kill you ~ Grandma McCarty)_ and a six pack of Rainier because my girl seemed to understand that sometimes you don't have to pay more for the best.

_My girl_. I felt guilty just thinking of her that way. Heidi had always been "my girl." How could I so easily think of Bella that way? I would have to tell Heidi about Bella eventually, but I was afraid of how she might react.

And, because I'm a selfish prick, I needed to know exactly where things were going first. No point in stirring up a ton of shit just to have Bella decide we'd be better off simply friends.

**0~0~0**

"Ohmygod, that smells so good!" She said just after I heard the key in the lock.

She didn't seem shocked that it wasn't locked. Or that I was there. It was as if it were the most natural thing.

I had let myself in just after my trip to the store, to unload all the groceries and start the chili. I was sitting on my new favorite recliner with a beer in my hand when she came in. I had even used a coaster. _Fuck, I was becoming so civilized._

"Good to see you're making yourself at home," she laughed. "And you remembered the coaster this time."

"What can I say? I'm house trained," I smirked.

"I don't know about that. You have your shoes on my fine leather," Bella quipped.

"Don't you mean fine Naugahyde?"

She answered by swatting my feet off the footrest as she walked by. _Damn, I could really like this girl!_

I was serving up the chili when Bella returned. She was wearing cutoff sweats that set low on her hips and a loose fitting tee - sans bra.

"Hope you don't mind. I couldn't wait to come home and get comfortable," she said.

"And you should," I smiled. Just make yourself at home."

Her nose wrinkled as she said, "I am home." She had tiny freckles sprinkled across it. Just like Heidi.

I sighed. "Come eat."

I watched as Bella completely devoured her first bowl of chili before I'd even gotten the beer from the fridge.

"Ah, and Vitamin R. Perfect!" she said as she helped herself to another bowl. There was something sexy about a girl who wasn't afraid to eat in front of me.

Bella spent the rest of dinner telling me about her day. Some little prick named Mike gave her all sorts of shit in 4th period, calling her Arizona instead of Miss Swan. At lunch Vickie, the Home Economics teacher, shared far too many details about her date the previous night with the shop teacher. And just after dismissal, that very shop teacher, Mr. James, visited Bella's room to welcome her aboard and personally inspect her room for any necessary repairs. _What an asshat!_

I don't know why I remembered it all. Hell, I don't know why I was even listening. It's not like any of it had anything to do with me. But I actually found it interesting to hear about her day. It was ridiculously and mundanely interesting. And it was comfortable. Like it was the most natural thing there was.

After dinner, we grabbed the last two beers and moved to the couch. Bella put a DVD on, but I couldn't tell you what it was because I was too busy watching her. Something funny must have happened because she giggled and looked at me, I guess to see if I was laughing too. Except, the look on my face must have told her I didn't care about the movie. I was interested in something far more important and her eyes remained glued to mine. And then, as if in slow motion, she moved closer to me. Our eyes never faltered. Her head tilted just slightly and I leaned in, noticing everything about her in those few seconds: a strand of hair across her forehead, the gold flecks in her eyes, and the fullness of her lips. And then those lips were pressed to mine. Soft. Gentle. Curious.

She pulled away and gazed up at me, her large eyes tentative and inquisitive. Then the corners of her mouth drifted up into a tiny smile and I couldn't stop myself from gently pulling her back to me. Our lips met again, this time with more intimacy, passion. She eagerly parted them, allowing me in. _The warmth. The heat. Her breath on my cheek. The want and need too much for either of us to resist. Her fingers tangled in my hair. My palm flat on her back urging her closer…needing her closer. The feel of her breasts pressed against my chest. Each breath in time with one another._

Suddenly, our eyes met and there was no question where the night was going. All that mattered was how long we could savor the moments it took to get there. Slowly, I had to go slowly. I had to make the moments last.

I felt her body shudder as I slipped my fingers beneath the soft cotton hem of her shirt, tracing phantom patterns on her skin. Only exposed to my touch, slowly and gently I explored her body until the flesh became soft and my fingertips brushed across her hardened tips. My cock hardened in response to the release of an almost silent whimper..

"Emmett?"

I froze.

"Emmett McCarty?"

My body turned cold at the sound of my mother's voice.

"Emmett McCarty?" Heidi's voice parroted and my heart sank. I could see the confusion on Bella's face. If only I'd been honest. If only I could have been that stand-up guy she deserved.

She jumped from where she'd been sitting, adjusted her clothes and opened the door as I sat frozen on the couch. _ Such a fucking coward._

"I'm sorry to have bothered you; I am looking for my son..."

Bella opened the door wider, revealing me to them. And there in the hallway just outside Bella's door stood Heidi with my mother. Her eyes were red and swollen. Her wispy curls were damp and matted. It was obvious Heidi had been crying.

"I'm sorry, Em," My mother pleaded. "She begged me to bring her to see you. She's been a mess all afternoon."

"It's okay," I said, standing and taking Heidi into my arms. She flooded my face with kisses, which I returned because she deserved them even if she didn't deserve me.

Moving to join Bella where she'd resumed her seat on the couch, I glanced at my mom looking pale in the doorway. Heidi climbed into my lap.

Feeling all the color drain from my face, I took Bella's hand in mine and did what I had hoped to avoid for at least a few more weeks.

"Bella, I would like you to meet someone that I should have told you about when we met." Turning my attention to Heidi, who immediately greeted Bella with a silly smile that showed off her two bottom teeth, I added "This is Heidi. And she's the love of my life." I kissed Heidi's cheek.

"She's my daughter."


	36. Outtake from Javamomma0921

**Name: **Javamomma0921

**Title:** From the McCarty Files (Epilogue)

**Rating**: T

**Pairing: **Emmett and Rose

**A/N**: Originally written as a FGB story for HMonster4. This is a series of vignettes in Rose's POV about how she fell in love with Emmett following the main action in "From the McCarty Files." You don't have to have read that story to understand these, but some parts might make more sense if you have. Much love and thanks to EmeraldStar73, bookjunkie1975, and Swimom7 for betaing and pre-reading this. Thanks to HMonster4, Accioburbon, and TheHeartofLife for organizing this awesome party.

* * *

I'm sitting in my living room, stomach bulging with my first child and thinking back on my life with Em. The baby is due any day now and I've been full of nervous energy for the last three days. "Nesting," Mother calls it. Whatever it was, it has eased up for a moment and given me time to just sit and be thankful. Who'd have thought three years ago that I'd have anything to be thankful for?

That man has changed _everything_.

_**I remember our first date…**_

Emmett is full of nervous energy when he shows up at my door. He's dressed to the nines in spats and a pin-striped grey suit. The grey fedora tipped low on his head doesn't hide the thin line of perspiration above his upper lip.

"Emmett McCarty!" I exclaim. "Are you nervous?"

He chuckles bashfully.

"I guess I am," he admits, pulling me close to him.

"Em, what on earth are you nervous about?"

He shrugs and steps away.

"I don't know … I just want to do this right, Rosie."

He walks over to the closet and pulls out my fur wrap. I step into his warm arms as he wraps it around my shoulders.

"Let's go, baby doll," he says quietly. "We have reservations to keep."

He takes me to a swank restaurant someplace uptown. He shouldn't be spending his dough like this and I tell him that. He smirks and shakes his head.

"I just took a rich dame for a lot of money, baby. I want to spend it on my girl."

He makes me laugh in spite of myself. Royce has been dead for under a month and here I am out on the town with the private eye I hired to get me off on murder charges. I shouldn't be laughing; I should be hiding. People are going to talk about me, but I can't seem to make myself care. Em wants to be with me and that's all I want to focus on tonight.

"What a lucky girl I am," I say coquettishly.

"I'm the lucky one," Em says, reaching across the table. "Thanks for giving me a chance, Rosie."

"I should be thanking you," I say, rubbing my thumb over his fingers and noticing how perfectly our hands fit together. "Nothing was tying you to me. Why'd you stick around?"

"Baby, I think you had me wrapped around this little finger from the moment you walked into my office." He holds up my pinky finger for inspection. "Sure. I tried to play it smooth, but I was a marked man. Did you know it?"

"I didn't know much of anything that night," I say, pulling my hands away from his so I can light my fag. "I was trapped and scared. You were my ticket out of that hell, Em; that's all I cared about then."

"And now?" he whispers.

"Now … things are so different I feel like I've lived a few years since that night. I still can't believe that nightmare is behind me."

"It is, Rosie," he said. "And it's never coming back."

He told the truth. He's always kept my past at bay, sheltering me from the demons of my past even when doing so tore him to pieces.

_**I remember our first night together …**_

He holds me after love, the safety of his arms like an invitation to drift into dreamland. I go easily, blissfully unaware of who's waiting for me.

It's Royce.

He's nightmarishly huge. His hot, stinking breath fans over my face as he screams at me over and over that I'm a whore and I'm no more than trash. I thrash and scream, my legs sluggish the way they always are in dreams as I try to run away. I can hear Em but I can't see him. I want to get to him because I know he is safe. He is real. I know, even in my dream, that Em's my reality. Royce isn't real anymore.

Em's large, warm hands are holding my shoulders, anchoring me in the bed we are sharing. Anchoring me in the present. My eyes open and I see him. He's blurry because of my tears, but he's here.

Royce is gone.

Em holds me as I sob for the first time since I found Royce dead. I press my face into the comfort of his shoulder and cry my heart out. He shushes me, stroking my hair, kissing my forehead, and finally loving me until I stop crying. His love heals me and sets me free.

_**I remember our first fight…**_

We're sitting in the back of Jas and Alice's tea house, talking in hushed voices with the cop and his girl. I don't say much. I still don't trust the bronze-haired pretty boy who would have locked me away if Em hadn't seen the truth. But Em likes him, so I don't complain.

The men are talking and the girl and I sit quietly and listen. I can't tell if she's taking anything in, but I hear every word. And I'm livid.

They finally leave and Em and I sit alone drinking tea and smoking.

"So," I say coolly. "Tell me more about Emily."

"It's none of your concern, Rosie," he says with the same bravado he uses with Masen. "Forget about her."

I stub out my cigarette and I look him levelly in the eye. His entire body reacts to the weight of my stare.

"Don't you _tell_ me what my concern is, Emmett McCarty," I seethe. "_Tell_ me more about _Emily_."

He lets out a shaky breath before filling in the holes of her story. She's destitute. Everyone in the Yards knows now what her man was involved in and why he got killed. She's lost all of their respect and all of their help.

"I need to help her," I say, leaning forward.

"Rose, you can't," he says, his head in his hands. "You can't just sweep in there, the widow of a man she blames for her husband's death, and offer her a bunch of dough."

"Why not?" I ask hotly. "She's in need and Royce had a hand in making her that way. Why shouldn't I try to make it better?"

"Because she's just as proud as you, dammit!" he bursts out. "And if you go in there waving cash in her face, she'll spit in your eye and tell you to take your charity somewhere else."

He's panting and flushed in anger. I know I'm deathly white. Fire and ice. And neither of us will ever back down. I smile at him.

"Leah will know what to do," I say.

He stares at me for a moment and then begins to chuckle. Instantly, the tension breaks.

"You're as smart as you are beautiful, you know that?" he asks, shaking his head.

"We can go there today?" I ask.

"Impatient, too," he growls, taking my hand.

But he's smiling and I know we're okay.

_**I remember meeting Leah …**_

I haven't met Leah before we ask for her help with Emily, but I've heard of her. I know she's important to Em; I know he trusts her. I find myself nervous, like I'm meeting a part of his family. I want to make a good impression.

"So you're the one," she says.

Her face is a study in hard and soft: clean, hard lines for her cheeks and nose; softness around her lips and eyes. I smile at her and she weighs me with her eyes.

"I am," I reply.

We regard each other for a few moments before she looks over at Em. She accepts me … for now. Em tells her why we're here and she listens quietly, thoughtfully. It's clear that Leah knows Emily and knows of her situation. When Em finishes, she turns to me.

"Why?" she asks. "Why are you doing this?"

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"I mean, why are you giving money to this woman? You don't know her. What is she to you?"

I think about my answer for a moment and then I look at her levelly.

"A sister," I say, holding her eyes steadily with mine.

She looks me over and I feel naked in her gaze. I know she's looking for signs of abuse, but Royce was never that careless. She's just going to have to read between the lines; I trust that she's more than capable.

"Masen," she says, looking away from me to Em. "Have his daddy go to Emily and offer her funds from a trust for victim's families. Have him draw it up in legal-speak and present it officially. Make sure neither of you ever go near her. She'll take it then."

Em nods and I get up, happy to have accomplished my goal. I take Em's arm as he thanks her and she turns back to me.

"Come back in anytime, Ms. Hale," she says with a quiet smile.

It's all the thanks I need.

_**I remember the night he proposed…**_

We're at his apartment in his bed. As many times as I've tried to persuade him to give up the apartment and move into my house, he's refused me. He has "principles," he tells me with his devilish grin. Then he kisses me and I forget to argue with him. Tonight, I start in on him again. I kneel on the bed and I run my fingers through my hair.

"Damn," I sigh. "I forgot my night shirt. You'll have to take me home."

"You can wear one of mine," he says, his eyes hooded as he reaches over and strokes my hip.

"But I don't have fresh clothes for the morning," I pout. "And I didn't bring my toiletries. I'd love to stay, but I just … can't."

He sighs, knowing where I'm going with this.

"It'd be so much _easier_ if we just stayed at the same place all the time." The words are familiar and I say them the same way I've said them eighty times before. I wait, ready to the patent response he always gives me.

"Marry me, Rosie," he whispers.

I'm shocked into speechlessness. It's not that I don't want to hear it. I want it more than anything. I'm just completely unprepared.

"What?" I ask shakily.

"I said 'marry me.'"

He looks up at me, his blue eyes vulnerable, pleading with me to give him the right answer.

"Of course I'll marry you, Em," I reply, cupping his cheek with my hand. "Yes."

He gathers me into his warm, familiar arms and covers my face with kisses, thanking me over and over again. In a rush of whispering covers, he's gone from the bed.

"Where are you going?" I ask with a laugh.

"To get your damn ring," he mutters. "I can't believe I asked you without the damn ring."

I'm laughing so hard I'm crying now, watching him rummage in his drawers, his naked backside facing me. God, he's so beautiful. And he's mine.

Again, I thank God for the twist of fate that brought this man into my life. He rushes back to the bed, holding a box in his hand. It looks tiny in his hand and his face is sheepish.

"If you don't like it, we can go out and get you a new one," he says, still holding it tightly in his hand. "This is just … it's special to me."

He opens the box slowly and I stare, speechless again, at a ring too beautiful to be new. I can see immediately it's an heirloom. It's either silver or platinum with a single diamond in the center. Blue sapphires frame the stone.

"Do you like it, Baby?" he asks.

"It's perfect," I whisper, holding out my hand to him.

His fingers shake as he puts the ring on my finger and then he pulls me close.

"I was so afraid it wouldn't be enough," he mumbles into my hair.

I pull back and look at him.

"Why wouldn't it be enough?" I ask him.

"It's not fancy and it's old."

"You know me better than that," I say with a frown. "This is part of you and your past, isn't it?"

"It's my grandmother's," he admits, looking down.

I grab his chin in my fingers and make him look at me.

"There is no part of your life that isn't enough for me, do you understand?" I say sincerely.

"I always wonder why, Rosie. We come from two different worlds … I'm always amazed when I realize that you want me."

I turn over and fit myself into his arms so he's spooning me. My head is cradled on his shoulder and his arms surround me.

"Me too, Baby," I say, a tear rolling out of my eye. "You amaze me, too."

_**I remember our first Christmas …**_

We're surrounded in wrapping paper, the house smelling of good things, and Em is holding me on the couch while we talk about the upcoming wedding. We're pulled out of our reverie by the phone ringing. Em kisses me on the forehead and tells me to relax.

I hear his deep baritone voice as he picks up the phone with a merry greeting. My body is relaxed and my mind is at ease. But when I hear the change in his voice, immediately I'm on alert. Something is happening.

I sit up and strain to hear him, but it's impossible. All I can hear is the familiar cadence of his voice as it rises and falls in his conversation. I hear him end the conversation and then I hear the sound of him dialing quickly. I wonder who he's calling. The pitch of his voice is raised, almost excited. Again, I wonder what is going on and whether his excitement is good or bad.

When he walks back into the room, his expression surprises me. He looks relieved.

"Who was it, Em?" I ask, my voice betraying my nervousness.

"I know we planned to stay in, Rosie," he says with a smile. "But do you think we could go out? Something amazing has happened."

"Of course," I say, standing up. "Can you tell me what's going on, because honestly, you have me a little spooked."

He chuckles and walks over to me, enveloping me in his warm, spicy scent. I can feel his happiness radiating through his embrace.

"Don't be spooked, Baby," he says quietly. "It's the best gift anyone could have given me. That was Edward. Esme Platt is finally being released from prison."

I pull back with a gasp.

"That _is_ amazing!" I say, touching his face. "Who did you call?"

"A friend."

His face is lighter, as though finally he had let go of his guilt.

We show up at the jail at the same time as Edward and Bella. An older version of Edward is standing with them and I guess that is the great Tony Masen, DA. I internally chastise myself for the sarcasm. The man had worked tirelessly to get Esme off. I should be thankful for his work. Still, there was residual angst from when he was fighting to put _me_ behind bars.

After we gathered in the waiting room, the doors open behind us again. A tall, thin man I had never seen before walks into the room and looks nervously around. Em and Edward exchange a look before both walking over to him.

"Dr. C.," Em says, holding out his hand. "Merry Christmas and thanks for coming."

"Merry Christmas indeed," the doctor replies. "Thank you for calling me, Emmett."

The doctor shakes Edward's hand next.

"Are you the young man responsible for getting her released?" the doctor asks Edward.

"No," Edward says, shaking his head. "That'd be my dad, Mr. Masen."

Edward turns and gestures to his father.

"Dad, this is Dr. Cullen. He provided funds for Ms. Platt's defense."

Mr. Masen walks over and shakes Dr. Cullen's hand. The doctor seems awkward, unused to being around so many people and I begin to wonder what his specialty is that he seems so nervous. Em walks back over to my side and winds his arm around my waist.

"Dr. C., I want you to meet my fiancée," he says with a proud smile. "Ms. Rosalie Hale."

I let Em lead me over to the doctor who is smiling out me broadly.

"Rosie, Dr. C. gave me a lot of help in solving your case," Em says quietly.

"Thank you, Dr. Cullen. It is a pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine, my dear," he says, taking my hand.

Just as he is about to speak again, a door behind us opens and one of the smallest, most fragile women I've ever seen walks into the room. She seems to shrink in upon herself when she sees the gathered crowd. I know immediately that this is Esme Platt. Even if I hadn't known who to expect, I would have known by the relief I see plastered on Em's face. Finally, he has been avenged.

"Esme," Dr. Cullen breathes, removing his hand from mine and walking over to the woman.

It's clear the good doctor is smitten with the woman, but I watch anxiously as he approaches the nervous woman. I expect her to cower in front of him, but instead her face lights up. It's not him that has her frightened; it's the rest of us.

"Come on, Em," I say quietly. "Let's leave them alone."

I leave that night with a different man, a man whose past no longer haunts him. When he makes love to me that night, I know just how much the demons of the past had been affecting him and how much freer he is now that the past is finally resolved.

_**I remember our wedding …**_

Our wedding is small. Not because people wouldn't come, but because there are very few people we really want there. Em's parents came from Tennessee, and surprisingly my parents came from Rochester. When Mother showed up at the house, I pulled her into my arms as though she might disappear before my very eyes.

"_Of course we came, dearheart," she whispered as she held me. "You're our daughter."_

I stand at the back of the church wearing a simpe ivory dress without a veil. Mother wished I would make more of a to-do, but Em and I don't want to gum up the works with formality. Today is about getting married, not about hosting a big wedding.

"Do you, Emmett McCarty, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in richer and in poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish from this day forward, as long as you both shall live?"

"I do," Emmett boomed without any hesitation.

There were a few chuckles from our gathered friends and family, but Emmett just stared lovingly back at me. So much is different today than it was when I married Royce and I realize in that moment that the differences are what make it so right.

_**The present …**_

Emmett is in the kitchen when the first pain comes. I'm sitting in my rocking chair and the pain hits me as I'm leaning forward with the chair. It's blindingly clear to me what is beginning and I cry out Em's name in terror.

He's by my side in an instant, his large hands covering mine on the arms of the chair and his forehead pressed against mine.

"Breathe, my Rosie," he's whispering. "Shhh, just breathe. I'm here."

And that makes everything okay.

The pains continue steadily and when they get to be too much, we call Alice and Bella, my two unexpected gifts that life with Em has given me. We call my women and they come to help me deliver this baby.

Things happen quickly once they are there and I almost lose myself in the whirlwind of confusion that swirls around me in anticipation of the birth. White towels and basins of water, tea and soothing words surrounded me. Luckily, Em is hard to lose in any crowd and he has always been what grounds me. Even when Alice and Bella try to push him out of the room, he stands firm, holding my hand because he knows I need him.

Through the pain, he is there. Through the screaming, he is there. Through the moments when I think I'm not going to make it, he is there holding my hand, telling me that I can do it. In the end, he wraps himself around our beautiful daughter and me, whispering how proud he is of me and how much he loves us.

And I know that his love will always be my saving grace.

*o*O*o*

_**E/N:**__ If you'd like to read the story that leads up to this, you can do so here: _.net/s/6216152/1/From_the_McCarty_Files_The_Poisoned_Cup

_Thanks so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed! ~Jen_


	37. One Shot from bookjunkie1975

**Rules of Engagement**

**Pen name: **bookjunkie1975

**Rating: **M

**Pairing:** Emmett/Leah

**Summary:** Emmett thinks that what he and Leah have is enough. Until it's not.

**AN:** Thanks to the women who help me find the words: javamomma0921, jstshirin, Word Ninja and swimom7.

Emmett stares at the dark haired woman sitting at the corner table. Her shoulders are hunched inward and her head is tilted down as she listens to the couple sitting across from her. It's early on a Thursday night and the bar isn't too busy yet, but Emmett isn't nearly close enough to hear any of the words being exchanged. Still, his brow furrows in concern as he watches the normally self-assured woman turning in on herself.

Emmett knows this woman. He knows how she holds herself tightly, almost arrogantly, when approached by a stranger. He knows how her voice flashes with cold disdain when she deals with incompetence. He knows that she likes three ice cubes in her Greyhound, no more, no less, and that the vodka better be cold or there'll be hell to pay. Emmett knows how her dark eyes can pin a person in place and sear right down to the marrow, taking a man's measure in an instant. And he knows how her body moves over his, the feel of her nails digging into his skin and the sound of her breath hitching when his tongue finds the smooth patch of skin just behind her ear. Emmett knows how her eyes widen just before she comes; how her teeth dig into her lip and her body tightens, freezing in place, as if she's experiencing one pure moment in time before her whole body bows and she throws her head back and squeezes her eyes shut and just feels.

After six months of serving her drinks and another four months of fucking her, Emmett is quite sure that he knows Leah Clearwater but watching her now, hands clenched and lips pressed together, Emmett realizes he's seeing a side of Leah he never knew existed. He doesn't like it. Eyes narrowed, he takes in the couple sitting across from her. The man has one arm slung casually across the woman's shoulders and as Emmett watches, his hand moves to rest lightly on the soft curve of the woman's stomach. Leah flinches and that's enough for Emmett.

"Watch the bar," he barks out as he heads determinedly towards the trio. He's a little apprehensive as he approaches the table. Leah has rules, after all, and he's not sure where exactly this unexpected and near overwhelming need to protect falls in regards to their relationship. When they first started fucking - because what they do together could never be regarded as anything more than that - Leah had very clearly outlined her expectations. She has three rules. There are no dates. There are no pet names or terms of endearment. And there is no one else. Should either of them decide they want more they are free to leave, no harm, no foul. Emmett suspects that what he's about to do may very well put him on the wrong side of Leah's rules but he can't seem to help himself.

The chair scrapes noisily against the floor as Emmett pulls it back from the table and sits.

"Clearwater," he nods to Leah before crossing his arms in front of his chest and leaning back in the chair.

"McCarty."

Emmett watches with satisfaction as Leah's posture shifts. Her shoulders draw back and her chin tilts up as she exhales. Her eyes glint dangerously and Emmett relaxes. This is the woman he knows. He grins easily at the couple across from him. The man sends Emmett a hard glare but the woman just looks at him curiously.

A heavy silence encompasses the table. Leah makes no move to introduce her companions and they seem unwilling to resume their conversation in front of him. The man's glare is becoming openly hostile and Emmett figures he'd better take pity on them.

"Emmett McCarty," he says as he stretches his hand lazily across the table, grinning wider when his hand is squeezed with just a bit too much pressure.

"It's nice to meet you Emmett," the woman says softly as she takes her turn, pressing her own hand lightly into his. "I'm Leah's cousin, Emily, and this is my husband Sam."

Sam grunts.

"And you're a friend of Leah's?" she peers intently at Emmett, and oh, Emmett knows _that_ look.

"I'm Leah's…" Emmett's mind works to find the proper description…friend, boyfriend, lover…none seem to work.

"You're Leah's?" And that fits.

Emmett leans back and nods.

"That's about right." Emmett sees the corner of Leah's mouth twitch and he wonders which way this is going to turn but then he feels the backs of her fingers brush lightly against his thigh and he knows he's safe.

Emily is still staring at him. It's easy to see that the two women are related. They share the same sharp, black eyes and high cheek bones; Emily's features are just a little more pointed, her face slightly more angular. She's not pretty, exactly. But then she seems to finish her silent assessment of Emmett and she smiles. That smile lights up her whole face and she's extraordinary. Emmett finds himself wondering what he would need to do to get Leah to smile like that, whole and open and unguarded. Something in his chest constricts at the thought and Emmett suddenly has a new goal in life.

"That's good." Emily is saying. "That's very good." She pushes away from the table and stands. Sam moves quickly to her side but she steps out and away to stand in front of Leah.

Leah rises, her gaze drifting slowly to Emily's rounded belly. Her mouth twists into a hard line but her eyes are soft.

"We should be going." Emily says. "Please think about what I said, LeeLee." She reaches out a hand and squeezes Leah's arm. The two women stand locked in place while Sam shifts uncomfortably and Emmett watches. Then Sam is pulling Emily away and heading towards the door.

Emmett stands next to Leah, his hand rubbing slow circles along the hollow of her back. Emmett doesn't know the how, what, when or why of this situation but he can guess. He's familiar with the sharp edge of guilt and betrayal that these two women wear. He hopes Leah will want to share this with him, but he won't push. A man has to pick his battles and he has something more important to fight for tonight. It's time for a re-negotiation of Leah's rules. And Emmett does not intend to back down.

Leah watches the couple walk away and Emmett decides to press his luck. He slides his hand along her back and down to rest at her hip, pulling her in to his side. Leah sighs and leans into him, relaxing her body against his. One arm wraps around his waist and the other drops to her side where she laces her fingers with his.

Emmett wonders if he looks as stunned as he feels. He knows this woman too, but he's not used to seeing her without the flush of afterglow brightening her skin. He takes advantage of the moment and wraps his other arm around her. Leah turns into him, pressing her cheek to his chest. She inhales deeply, closes her eyes and says his name. Just his name. Emmett. And Emmett wonders if maybe they've been bending her rules all along, because doesn't his name, breathed out through her lips, twist every part of him up so tightly he can barely breathe? No "sweetie" or "dear" or "love" has ever done that to him.

Leah sighs and steps away, pulling herself up tall and straight and proud. She has her armor back on and her mask in place, but her hand is still linked with his and her thumb is rubbing gently back and forth across his skin.

"I have to go back in to work," she says. "One of the senior partners put me on a new case and I have a lot to catch up on. I'll be there late."

"Want me to pick you up?"

"No. I don't know how late I'll be and you have to close the bar. I'll just see you later."

"I can get someone else to close up. Leah if you need me…"

They are standing face to face now and Emmett doesn't miss the way Leah's breath hitches and her eyes widen. Leah is a master at subtext and Emmett has no doubt that she understands. She tilts her head and raises a hand to cup his cheek tenderly.

"You know, I'm starting to think that I do." The words are spoken so quietly that Emmett has to strain to hear over the steadily escalating noise of the bar, and at first he's not even sure he hears her correctly. As his brain struggles to process her words, Leah pulls her hand away and turns to leave. "I'll see you later," she tosses back over her shoulder before slipping into the crowd.

"I'll bring breakfast," Emmett calls after her.

Leah stops and turns to face Emmett. She stares at him thoughtfully for a moment as bodies move back and forth between them.

"It's a date," she shouts. And then she smiles. It's not wide and open and easy like her cousin's. But it's there and it's a start and in that moment it's the most beautiful thing Emmett has ever seen. His own smile feels wide enough to split his face. Emmett can't stop the electric surge that jolts through his body with a wild force. He watches Leah as she threads through the crowd to the door. It seems that negotiations are open and Emmett is going to enjoy re-writing the rules — all but the last one. Because, for Emmett, there is no one else. Just Leah. And Emmett thinks that just might be enough.


	38. One shot by Shalu

**Name: shalu**

**Title: Emmett Cullen, Ghost Hunter**

**Rating: M** (I drop bombs, yo. F-Bombs.)

**Summary: **Emmett drags his brothers to the Swan Asylum to hunt for ghosts. Comedy, mayhem, and comedic mayhem ensue. AU

**A/N:** This was inspired (more than a year ago, actually) by that Travel Channel show, Ghost Hunters or whatever it was. Twowackykids knows. SO, thanks to that, this comedy might get a bit cracky, with the best intentions. (The usual props to _Growing Up Cullen_, btw.) Plus, if you've seen that show, you'll totally know where I'm coming from. It's all good times & family fun for the big guy, as you know.

* * *

"Dude. You're going with me, bro."

Jasper keeps shaking his head, apparently trying to piss me off. "I am not going into some abandoned lunatic asylum and look for ghosts, Emmett."

"DUUUUDE. You can chill out all the hyper-evil-pissed-off spirits and shit." He levels a glare at me. "What? It would totally work!"

"Take Edward. He can get all emo and moan along with all the 'ghosts.'"

I try to stem the monster snort that echoes through the hallways. No luck; shakes the mirrors. Might have broken one.

"Fuck that, dude. I'll need you there to help me when we have to sacrifice him. You know, best results when you use a virgin."

Edward comes flying down the stairs. "Emmett, that's completely uncalled for! Why do you have to be such an asshole? I'm _saving myself_, okay? Is that so hard to believe?"

I bite the shit out my tongue trying not to cough my lungs out laughing. In fact, I kind of bite it off. _Pause for reattachment_. "NO ONE SAVES THEMSELVES ANYMORE, MISS VAGINA MONOLOGUES!"

His emo-face just gets emo-er, if that is even possible. He crosses his arms and huffs, sitting down hard on the couch. Doesn't even crack the frame; he has no idea how to ruin furniture. _Ooh, speaking of which—where _is _Rose?_

"Jumpin' Fucking Jehosaphat, Eddie, every girl in the school would fuck you into oblivion given the chance. Pick one. Actually, wait—don't; we need you for the sacrifice."

"Not _we_, Em. I'm NOT GOING," Jasper insists, but he's protesting too much. What is that famous quote? _Thee doest protest a lot more than..._wait, that's not it. _Ah, fuck it_. "Alice wanted me to go shopping with her."

"Christ, Jasmine. Maybe _you_ can de-virginize Edward."

That fucker hates when I call him a girl, or when I ask him what it's like to be a lesbian. Of course, it is all too easy for him to get back at me. Dude threw gusts of lust at me and next thing I know I have a hard-on the size of Texas and I'm all up on Edward licking his ear. Jasper cracks and starts laughing so hard, I can't even get mad, and neither can Edward. He freaked when I grabbed him, and was most definitely jealous of the size of my gear, but Edward and I are soon giggling like seven-year-old schoolgirls thanks to Jasper's amusement.

I roll my eyes and push Edward off the couch. He makes a dent in the floorboards and groans, running up to his room like a bitch. He flies back down the stairs—_come on, you all know Edward's a fast fucker. HA! A fast fucker! HAHAHAHA...*AHEM* I digress_. Point is, Mary-Poppinsward had gone up to my room, grabbed my favorite baseball bat and now stands behind me so he can splinter it around my head. _Good thing I got a hard head. HA! A HARD HEAD! YES! I got TWO of 'em! HAHAHAHA—  
_  
"STOP IT!" Edward screeches, clawing at his eyes. "God, Emmett! Shut the fuck up! Is everything in that ... _brain_ (if-you-can-call-it-that)," he pauses, smirking at his lame-ass joke. Jasper snickers. Edward points to his temple and continues, "Is everything up there filthy?"

I stop to think about it for a moment._ Nope, can't really deny it_. I shrug. "Anyway, ladies," I continue on about my plan, "I say we head over to Swan Asylum around midnight. Not before. I mean, twelve is the witching hour or whatever."

Edward starts laughing. "Dude—"

"BRO." I counter.

"No, Dude—"

"BRO," I say again, extending the "O" this time. _Heh_.

"I didn't even finis—"

"THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID!" _Yesss!_

He rolls his eyes. "You really are a child, Emmett."

"Whatever, Virgin Mary. Listen, MIDNIGHT. We're going. Swan Asylum. BOTH OF YOU." I eye them both, my eyeballs damn near popping out of my skull. I point a finger at each of them and jab Edward in the chest. "Damn you're puny, man. Sorry you couldn't have matured a bit more before you turned ... you could really use some chest muscles. And biceps. And triceps. Quads. Del—"

Jasper and I blink in the gust of wind trailing after Edward as he flees up the stairs. _PUSSY!_

"FUCK. OFF. EMMETT!"

"I'm not gay or anything, but your ass is decent, at least. Tiny, but—"

I hear my bedroom door get crushed to woodchips. _You're explaining that to Rose, Mr. Pantysniffer._ Aaaand there goes the dresser. _If Rose's good lacy sets are ruined, I'ma make you shop for replacements!_

I turn to look at Jasper, who simply raises his eyebrows at me. "Fifty bucks he's gonna clean his room again."

**O o O o O o O o O o O o O o O**

Tinkering through the garage, I find a few flashlights. I had gone to the Army Surplus store in Port Angeles that morning to get some infrared goggles and night-vision shit, so that stuff will be badass. Not that we really need them, but I figure we should carry some sort of equipment. Plus, the night vision makes everything look glowing green which is pretty damn cool. After watching _Ghostbusters_ on TV last week, I went online and ordered a bunch of tools all the nerds cream themselves over, including some EMF meters. People always mention those things, so I had to have them. I had no idea how to use the stuff, but I thought we'd figure it out. When the gadget goes batshit, there's a ghost, right? SCORE.

I go into a very "Jasper" mode for the mission and organize all the gear into separate cases and packs, so that each of us will carry an even load. Okay, maybe not Edward, 'cause I don't need his pansy-ass whining.

"GODDAMMIT, EMMETT! I can carry anything you—"

"Save it, Cinderella! You couldn't carry my dick."

I wait a moment until I hear a marble counter crack in half. _Esme is going to kick your immortal ass when she and Carlisle get back from that fundraiser in ... where the fuck are they? Whatever._

"I was kidding, Shirley Temple!" I shout through the open door connecting the garage to the house, hoping he might calm the fuck down a bit. _I mean, really—if you'd just get laid, boy, I'm sure you'd relax, like, a billion-fold_.

I turn to the open door of the garage where Edward is now standing. "Emmett, if you want my help with this damn _ghost hunt_—" he overemphasizes those two words to make sure I'm aware that he thinks it's ridiculous, "—then, please, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, take the day off of teasing me? Especially the silent comments?"

I consider it for a moment, coming to the conclusion that it would be better for the time being if Wardo is cooperative.

"Thank you," he nods, seeming relieved. "So what have you got? Equipment-wise?"

I open my mouth to make a signature Emmett Dick Joke™, but he cuts me off. "No, thanks. You know I'm asking about the ghost hunting stuff, not your junk. I've seen enough of that in Rosalie's mind to be able to sketch it in my sleep. If I slept."

_Shit, boy, you are KILLING me. How can I NOT make a joke about that?_

"Get it out of your system," he sighs, resigned and already annoyed.

"Pfft! You just took the fun out of it." I turn back to the piles of stuff and start pointing out all the different tools and meters. "Well, I got the EMF meters—one for each of us, a EVP recorder, an 'ambient air probe'—that one's for you," I add before he punches me in the side. I flinch and the fucker smirks. _Dick_.

I go back to the gear, because looking at it all and listing it off is really getting me excited. _Dang, I hope Rose gets back before we leave. I think I need a little garage sex before I go._

Luckily, Edward ignores this thought—which, I guess he does most of the time since I _do_ think about having sex with my wife _a lot_. That is, when I'm _not_ actually having sex with her. So, I get back to naming shit off.

"Right, so I also got an infrared thermometer _with a laser_," I emphasize, imitating Dr. Evil because it makes me laugh, and _Austin Powers_ rocks. Edward actually snorts in amusement, so I give him an approving nod and continue. Again. "Aaand some rope, Winchester cases, shoulder bags, night-vision goggles, flashlights, and a bunch of motion sensors. OH, and I bought us each a video camera."

"Don't we already have some?"

"Those are private." I immediately picture the past few rounds of taping with Rose, and Edward simply walks out of the garage, pinching the bridge of his nose. _LIKE WE CAN EVEN GET HEADACHES!_

"DON'T YOU WANT TO HEAR ABOUT THE _DIVINING RODS_ I GOT FOR YOU? THEY'LL FIND YOU PUSSY. I MEAN, YOUR SOULMATE. EDWARRRD!" I stop shouting and laugh my ass off. Not literally, although as a vampire, I bet I could do it. _Experiment for another time. May need Jasper's help with that._

It's kind of amazing that Edward was right, though: I couldn't not tease the poor kid for ten minutes. _Wow, I have no willpower whatsoever. _I'm sure Rose can attest to this.

Shifting my focus back to the Jeep, I pack all the stuff in the back and tuck it under a black tarp. I don't know why I felt a tarp was necessary, but it seems like you should always have a tarp for an expedition of this nature. _HAHAHAHA ... dammit, I probably sound all fucking PROFESSIONAL or some shit._

Checking my watch, I note that it's only four-thirty in the afternoon, so I've got hours to wait before I can drag my brothers' asses down to the _supposedly_ scariest building on the west coast. _This is going to be AWESOME._

In the meantime, I think my wife is home.

**O o O o O o O o O o O**

Esme will be _none too pleased_ to find my and Rose's bedroom in complete shambles when she gets back from ... _shit, can I really not remember where they went? How is that possible? Vampires have perfect memories._ I shrug. I'm not concerned, as she and Big Daddy C are surely just fine. In any case, I tell Rose that we can shack up in Edward's room while he fixes ours.

"Bull fucking shit, Emmett," Edward hisses as I trot down the stairs behind my woman, both of us _fully satisfied_. "You can't just use my room."

"Au contraire, mon frére!" I say, dazzling him with my shitty French. "Like that? It actually means BROTHER. See how funny I am? It kills me that you died without a sense of humor. Tragic."

Rose sidles up to me as Edward scowls at us. "What's the matter, Eddie-poo? Afraid of the smell of sex? Or just sin, in general?"

"Just _no_, okay? NO. I like my stuff. I'd prefer it all wasn't assaulted by your naked asses." He turns and heads to the couch to plop down next to Jasper, crossing his arms. _No, I'm serious. He really crossed his arms_.

"Fine, whatever. Listen, it's eleven-forty; we should roll." I grab my keys off the table in the foyer. "All the shit's in the Jeep and—"

"Jasper is not going, Emmett," Alice appears suddenly. _Little One was always sneaky._ I take in her expression and she seems panicked.

"What the fuck, Pint-Size? What could possibly happen to us? There are no Quileutes around here anymore, it's ABANDONED, so there's no peeps for Jas to nom on ... and no snatch for Edward to get lucky with. OH, and we're practically indestructible vampires. We'll be safe as kittens."

President of the Lullaby League doesn't buy it, apparently, because she's not budging.

"I'm sorry, but I just ... something _bad_ is going to happen to all of you if he goes, and I ... I can't see it clearly, but I'm begging you, let him stay home."

_Great_. Now, I'm pissed. I throw my keys down and they embed into the marble floor. "FUCK!"

After digging them out, I stomp out to the garage, rip my awesome black tarp off the Jeep, and rake my eyes over the badass pile of gear I've got all prepped for midnight in the looney bin. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!"

I can't help myself and I start throwing things. Rose catches a tool chest without even blinking. _Fuck that's hot._

"Really, Em? Throwing a tantrum like a two-year-old? You can still go, just without Jasper."

I fight the urge to whine, but then I decide I don't give a shit. "Smurfette is ruining my fun! I spent, like, _three days_ working on this shit, and now ... NOW—"

"I'M GOING, ALICE!" Jasper busts through the door into the garage, knocking it off its hinges.

"Go, BRO!" I shout in solidarity, and fistpump, accidentally hitting the ceiling of the garage. _Fuck. More repairs_.

Tiny comes barreling out after him. "Jasper! Did you _not_ hear what I said? BAD. BADNESS. Do you think I make this shit up?"

She's totally pissed off, and I know if he doesn't back down, he'll be eating crow and nothing else for a few months. Jasper's shoulders cave. _Fuck_.

"Ali," he says, using that sweet-talk, "baby I love you" voice. _Oh, shit, dude. WORK THAT MOJO._ "I will be _fine_. If I don't go, there will be no buffer between Edward and Baby Huey."

_That was uncalled for._

"I can see what happens if you don't go," she insists. "They'll be fine! Well, Edward will, but it's nowhere near as bad as if you go."

_Wait, what?_

"Angel," he tells her, shmoozing the shit out of it, "you said yourself you couldn't _really_ see. Maybe all that happens is we actually do manage to scare the shit out of ourselves! Quit worrying, Sweetpea. 'Kay?"

He pulls her into his arms and kisses the top of her head. I can practically feel her frown from here, but I think he's avoided sleeping on the couch ... at our house in Rochester. At least for the moment.

"SHIT, YEAH!" I boom. "GHOST_BALL_BUSTERS are BACK IN BUSINESS!"

**O o O o O o O o O o O o O o O**

"So, Jas, what made you change your mind?" I ask as we speed along Route 666 (_just kidding; it's Route 13!_). "It's not like you to go against your mistress's wishes like that."

He glares at me, and I know he's considering different ways to torture me.

"I'm kidding, bro!" I declare. "But don't think I don't know who gets tied up when the ropes come out."

"You tried it?" He challenges.

"Are you kidding?" I make that "don't be a fucking idiot" face. "Of COURSE I have. That shit is hot. I ain't knockin' it. We both dig being at the other's merc—"

"For the love of anything you find sacred, Emmett, must we?" Edward pipes up from the back, his voice indicating his extreme discomfort.

"Whassamotta, Edwardo?" I toss out a really bad Italian accent, just for fun. "Gettin' a woody? Or, a stiff sparkly one? HAHAHAHA ... jeez, I crack myself up."

"We noticed," Jasper and Edward reply in unison.

"Okay, that was some _Shining_ shit right there." I can't help it, but I shiver. I saw that in the theater, and ... creepy children. _Shudder_. "Now answer my question, Jas."

"Em, you know I was always gonna go, I was just giving you a hard time."

"Dude, you're a dick, bro." _Hard time ... Dick ..._

_It's true. I am perpetually twelve._

At that moment, we pull up to a spot just down the road from the building. I pass out the backpacks, and everyone grabs a case.

"All right, ball-sacs, time to nut up or shut up!"

Jasper groans. "Em, this ain't _Zombieland_."

"Pffft, whatever, man. Harrelson was awesome in that flick. I'm summoning the _awesome_." Really pisses me off that I need to explain this shit to my brothers.

"Whatever, indeed," I hear Edward mumble.

I point a finger at him. "Seriously, Jane Austen, I'm about to ball-gag you. The only thing stopping me is I'm afraid you'd like it."

Jasper huffs. "For fuck's sake, can we just do this? Or are you ... _scared_, Em?"

"You assholes are sucking all the fun out of this for me," I mutter, taking off at full-vampire speed, bringing me to the front door in 2.3 seconds. _Fuck yeah._

Turning around, I see Jasper and Edward walking up at human speed. I heave an unnecessary sigh and put my shit down on the ground. I grab each one by the front of their shirts and prepare to hurl some threats. Visions of torn limbs and hiding them miles apart are dancing through my head like a child's dream at Christmas, when I remember that these are my brothers. And even though I might (_okay, probably_) go out of my way to annoy or make fun of them, I'd rather have them enjoy this with me.

Smoothing out their shirts, I lay my hands flat on their chests. "Okay, Bro? Bro?" I ask them individually. Their eyes simultaneously go wide, chasing after their raising brows. "Are you with me on this, or what? This is gonna be fun! 'Kay? Just fun. Please?"

Slowly (_like, TOO slow_), they turn their heads to look at each other and mirror crooked smiles. _Okay, for real? I'm about to call an exorcist. Or Jack Nicholson. They're creeping me out. They don't even look alike and the twinnage going on here is weird.  
_  
Jasper nods, looking at me again. "Sure thing, dude. I'm in. I'm here, aren't I? Let's do this. "

Terse nod from me, I look to Edward.

"If you can keep the Princess comments to a minimum, I'll enjoy this a hell of a lot more," he says by way of agreement.

I chew on my lip for a minute. _Shit, cracked a tooth. Pause for (another) reattachment._ "All right, Sweet Cheeks, you got it. Now let's bust some ghost balls."

I can hear their eyes rolling in their sockets, but I do my best to ignore it. With a quick snap to the thickest set of chains and locks I've seen in decades, the doors creak open, swinging inward.

I take a moment to thoroughly scan the immediate area (_do you not love this? I sound like a fuckin' pro, right?_), my eyes instantly adjusting to the darkness within. Dust, debris ... everything you'd expect to see in an old, abandoned, run down place like this.

"Fuck, dude," I say to no one in particular, "I hope we find one of those 'zapper' machines — I'm totally gonna try and electrocute myself."

"First off, it's an ECT, or Electroconvulsive Therapy machine, not a '_zapper_!'" _Guess who is lecturing me. I'm not looking at him, but a hundred bucks says he's ticking his debate points off on his fingers._ "Secondly, what if you set yourself on fire, jackass?"

Whoa. That actually had not occurred to me. "Holy shit, bro! If I did that, I might end up haunting this place!"

"You are far too excited about that prospect, Em," Jasper interjects. "I'm a little worried about you."

"DUDE, if I catch on fire—which I consider highly unlikely, I trust you to put me out before I explode into a bajillion vampire pieces." I look at him and he just shrugs, eyeballing me like I'm schizo as he walks inside.

"Fine, Nancy Drew, I won't try to electrocute myself. I _still _say it would be fine, maybe tingle a bit—oh, hold on," I pause, Rose-gasmic images massaging my mental porn muscle. A device like that could be very interesting for use in the bedroom (or probably the garage or basement where Carlisle makes us keep all the gadgety shit we acquire).

I'm broken from my XXX-rated musings by (_pretend to be shocked_) Edward's groan. "For serious, bro, you have to loosen up a —" I turn toward him, but he's not there. "How the fuck did he sneak out on us, Jas? Did he get scared already?"

Turning the other way, I find Jasper is gone, too.

"Are you assholes fucking kidding me?" I shout, surely rattling some tiles or some shit. "You dudes suck. FINE. I'll hunt by myself."

Standing in the center of the lobby, I look down and see the hospital name beneath my feet, in a mostly broken mosaic. _Swan Asylum_. I'd read it's been abandoned almost fifty years, and the family still owns the property. They tried to sell it in the early seventies, but every prospective buyer suffered a brain hemorrhage and died, within a week after visiting. 

_This shit's like _Ringu_._ (_That's right; I saw the original Japanese horror flick, bitches! Like, eleventy times. Insanely better than _The Ring_. GET IT? INSANELY? hahahaha..._)

I mean, this place has _House on Haunted Hill_ type history. The founder, James Swan, went all postal after some dumbass doc killed his schizo wife trying out a "new lobotomy procedure." _Fucking idiot._ Anyway, several people died here, _violently_. Gotta be some bad juju in here.

Thinking about the story of the place kind of gave me the creeps, but regardless, I am gonna find a damn ghost even if I _do_ have to set myself on fire. Stepping off the mosaic, I heard another Emoward groan. I spun my head to glare in that general direction, but even my awesome vampire sight didn't pick up anything but a shitload of dust particles and spiderwebs.

"BRO," I yelled down the corridor. "GROAN AGAIN. I THINK I SAW YOUR VAGINA WITH THAT ONE."

I snicker to myself, but I hear no reply but the ricochet of my own echo. I can't help it, but I scowl, realizing those fuckers have actually abandoned me.

"Fuck this," I mutter. "I'm busting out the gear."

I vampire-rush around the building, placing video recorders, figuring I bought the shit, why not see if it picks something up? _Would have liked some help, but my brothers are WIMPS. I should have brought Alice and Rose. Tiny's like a fucking vampire ninja. And Rose is so bad ass, the ghosts would piss their pants ... if they wore pants. Whatever.._

Grumbling to myself, I dig into my pack and grab the infrared glasses and the EMF meter to start really searching the place (_COUGH_-forelectroshock-_COUGH_). With my already excellent vamp sight, the infrared just compounds and it's like fuckin' X-ray shit. Every minute detail is suddenly like neon, glaringly obvious.

I flick the on switch for the EMF and it immediately starts clicking and buzzing._ Yes! Bring on the ghosts!_ I follow down the central corridor directly in front of me, waving the tiny black box from left to right, if only just to hear the static and noises pitch and squeal.

I've made it to the end of the hall, but I haven't seen or heard anything yet. I'm gonna have to provoke.

"Uh, hey PSYCHOS," I begin, figuring insults usually get a reaction. _I mean, hell, look at Prissypantsward. All I have to say is 'Princess' and the guy mopes for a week._ "Why don't you show yourselves? Pipe up and be a man. Or woman. Whatever. You're probably all eunuchs, right? De-nutted and sterilized or some shit? Come on, pussies. HIT ME."

I hear the scraping of metal on rusty metal as I turn toward the staircase at the end of the hall. Spinning back to face the direction I'd come from, I see a mangled gurney sliding slowly down the corridor. Ridonkuslow, in fact.

_That is fucked up. And AWESOME._

"Seriously, bro? That couldn't hurt me if I was human." I position myself to face off the hunk of junk, willing it to move faster.

As if on cue, the thing picks up speed and hurtles directly into me, nearly taking my head off. After a moment of shock, I peel the steel bars from around my frame and shake the rest of it off like water off a duck's ass. I notice, however, that my infrared goggles are busted. I pick up my EMF meter, which dropped during impact, and smack it, seeing if it still works.

_Bzzzzzttztttt._

SCORE. I am definitely gonna have to buy more infrareds, though. Those fuckers are _boss_.

"YES! That's what I'm talkin' bout!" I shout, standing up and fistpumping the air as I move toward the now-vacant hallway. "More of that! SHIT, I almost forgot my EVP recorder. I have to know if you spectral dicknobs are swearing at me or whatever ... since you can't _man up_ and say it OUT LOUD. I mean hell—"

Before I can finish (and realize that I am now talking to myself), something sharp stabs me in the kidney. It occurs to me that while it can't kill me, it actually fucking hurts. It also feels like it's slicing right through me. _What the hell?_

I look down to see if I'm skewered all vamp-kabob style, but I don't see anything but my junk crammed into my cargo pants (_Didn't I tell you I was packin'?)_. Fine, sick of my jokes already, are you? _But honestly, I'm not joking. Ask Rose. If vamps could get sore, she'd be hurtin'. Also, he'll deny it, but I caught Edward ogling my gear a few years ago. I think he was crazy jealous._

I wait, wondering if the thought will bring The Little(st) Princess out of hiding. Strangely enough, my ears pick up something, but it's not vampire. I try to analyze it. It sounds vaguely human ... ish, but something about the lack of echo tells me it's not really there. I look from side to side, hoping for a clue. Mentally checking through a list of the shit in my backpack and case, I remember the divining rods. _Goddamn, I can't NOT laugh when I think of those things. I'll give you a divining rod .._. _Yeah, you knew that was coming._

Wait, there it is again. Breathing ... low, but labored. At the shell of my ear.

A shiver thunders through me and I spin around, ignoring the pain through my gut, and it twists, sending red-hot flares of torment through my limbs and fingertips. I nearly drop to my knees, but I hang tough. (_Shut up. Don't even sing it. I fucking hate that song, and I promise you I'll pick up your crappy singing from here. I think Alice played it for two years straight. Jasper will DEFINITELY deny it, but fucker liked it._ _I hated it. Really. I'm not kidding. Quit looking at me like that!_)

I'm really confused when I don't see anything. I thought for sure if there were ghosts or poltergeists, there'd be _some_ visual indicator.

"All right, dude. Where are you? Too pussy to fight a man, er, um ... vampire?" I'm not thrilled at the way my voice wavers a little bit, but I'll admit, I might not be prepared for what I'm up against.

Without warning, however, I am overcome with the giggles (_like a drunken five-year-old)_ and start laughing my ass off. I'm so jarred by the shift, I don't notice two fucking dipshits stroll up behind me, like those creepy _Shining_ twins, and shove me over.

"You are too fucking easy," Jasper claims through his little-girl giggles. Obviously, it was _him_ screwing with me. "A little bit of pain and misplaced groans ... you were all up in the Haunted House shit. I thought you might cry — if you had tears, of course."

"Is this why Alice was all Ragin' Cajun up in yer shit about not coming with me?" I already knew the answer.

"Bro, you are such a dick," I hiss, brushing off my pants and standing. I aim a punch at his chest, but he darts out of the way. I don't even bother with Edward cuz the snappy little shit will see it coming as soon as I think it.

"Damn, right, Emma," he affirms, trying to be funny.

"Dude, get your own jokes, okay? I'm sure you could be almost funny if you did a lot more research." That got me a proper scowl. "That's it, Bro. Be you. Don't be afraid to just _be you._"

"Asshole."

"There we go, I feel so much better now." I pick up the mangled infrared glasses and hold them up for them to see. "A'right, dudes, whose idea was it to throw the gurney at me? You owe me a new pair of these."

Both of their faces scrunch in confusion, staring at the glasses like they're alien — or in Edward's case, a vagina.

"I have seen a va—"

"SHHH! Don't say it out loud!" I whisper-yell. "The Cherry Fairy will haunt you and bar you from popping yours for ANOTHER CENTURY!"

Hairy eyeball. Jasper unsuccessfully tries to conceal a snort. Chokes on his venom. _Sweet._

"Okay, whatever. Let's quit fuckin' around. I know you douchebags hurled the gurney. Just tell me which one gets his arm ripped off and —"

A hollow moan interrupts my rant and echoes all around us.

"You fuckers set this up, too? CrackerJack Christ on a cracker! How long have you been planning this mutinous crap?" I glare at them, sure they're intent on not only busting my balls because _I_ wanted to do this whole ghost hunt thing, but ruining the entire night, to boot.

"Man, that wasn't us," Jasper whispers, looking around. He whips out (_come on, you can snicker for me, can't you?)_ the heat-signature camera I thought I'd hidden in my own bag. I growl at him, but he just flicks me in the ear. _FLICKS ME IN THE EAR._ I'm about to put him in some serious hurt, but before I can move, Edward jumps.

"What is it, Mary?"

"I felt something touch my face," he says quietly. "A hand or ... yeah, just a light brushing of fingertips."

"You're so in love with this ghost already, you didn't even protest to the nickname," I tell him, punctuating it with a snort. "I'ma get ordained to be a priest of the Highest Fuckternal Order so you and Casper can get married right away. You've been waiting a _long time_ for your wedding night."

Instead of arguing, he flips me off and follows ... his _heart_ or some shit. _Hahahahaa ... HAHAHhahaha ... I'll be okay, don't worry. HAHahhahahaha..._

"I'm not kidding, bro," I say, coming off my mental laugh riot (possibly minutes later, I can't say for sure). I nudge Jasper's shoulder. "Are you guys still fucking with me? What the—"

"Emmett," Jasper hisses, really quietly, begging me with his eyes to—and I quote—"Shut. The. Fuck. Up." Gauging his expression and the super-annoyed vibe he's throwing off, I decide he's totally serious. "Come on."

He sets off after Edward, and I follow, grumbling lowly. "Hunt ... shit ... MY fucking idea ... my show ... I'm ... leader ... didn't even wanna ... shitheads ..."

Jasper double-birdie salutes me over his shoulders as I follow him, which only makes me grumble louder. I'm altogether silenced, though, when we find Edward staring down a dank, narrow set of stairs.

"What?" Jasper asks him, all suddenly fucking intrigued and into the whole ghosthunting thing.

"Are we in the goddamn Blair Witch movie or what? _Can you speak, Mikey_?" I pitch my voice all high, trying to piss him off, because despite their sudden interest, I'm still irritated that they couldn't just take it seriously in the first place.

No, Edna cannot speak, or won't. Still ignoring us, he starts forward again, moving a helluva lot faster. Even for a vampire, Edward is fast and quickly loses us before we reach the bottom of the stairs.

Jasper aims the camera at the blackness before us. There is next to no light down here.

"Prissypants ain't gonna show up, Bro. We have no heat signature."

"Did you just say 'heat signature'?"

"I'm a fucking professional."

He ignores me with an audible roll of his eyes. "You hear that?"

I strain the silence with my ears, reaching for some sound other than our conversation. He starts moving toward it, and I follow his shadowy outline. _Hahaha ... Jasper's a shady fucker._

We reach a set of doors, and I'm _really, really_ hoping we find some really gnarly shit in here, like torture devices and Edward's all caught up in them, enjoying it like the Sub we all know he is. _Come on. Think about it. Dude lives for that shit._

Jasper kicks the doors open — well, more like off its hinges.

"Way to be subtle, Kimosabe," I mutter before turning my glance to the new room. It's lit up by a few small glass block windows along the side, but there's also a creepy flickering lamp in the corner. This helps me to distract from the horror before me.

"OHMYFUCK! STOP! GAHHHHH! MY EYES! I'M BLINDED!" I stumble into the door frame, smashing a huge chunk of cinderblock out of the corresponding wall. I claw at my eyes, hoping I can do some damage, but that's not going to erase my memories. "OH GOD, where is the bleach! IT'S HORRIBLE! AHHHHAHRGHGHRGHHH! _Urghhh!_ Those elk I ate for lunch must have been vampire poison or something — I think I'm gonna puke. I feel faint ..."

I hold my gut, which is churning. "Jasper, save yourself! There's no hope for me. Tell Rose I love her."

Falling to my side on the ground, I hear my brothers move to stand around me. I whisper dramatically, "Hold me, Jas ... just until the darkness takes me."

He snorts. "Are you done, Miss America?"

I pop open one eye, analyzing the amused and annoyed faces of Jasper and Edward — who has a pale, sparkly (_not us; yes, I know we sparkle in sunlight, but this is ... girly ... -er_) pink gloss smeared all over his face.

"You're calling _me_ Miss America when Vanessa over here has pink lipgloss on his face?" Edward's eyes go wide and if we could get paler, his face would have blanched.

"That would be from making out — with a _girl_," he adds, like he's fourteen. I shudder, recalling the scene that led me to such dramatics.

Jumping up quickly, I turn to said girl and am slammed with a scent tastier than the couple of grizzlies I had with Rose last week. "A _human_ girl," I amend, swallowing the venom pooling in my mouth. I quickly slurp that down, so as not to offend (_HAHAHAHAHAHA ... I know, right?)_. "When did I miss this? What the FUCK is going on?"

The girl, who seemed amused at first, startles at my sudden volume, her cheeks flaming pink as she clings to Edward's shirt. I see him wince and chew on his lips.

"Em, this is _Bella_," he says, and I can tell he's trying not to breathe. That said, he seems ... _happy_. I'm not sure what to do with this information. _Does. Not. Compute_. "She's my ... girlfriend."

I raise an eyebrow and look at Jasper.

"She's his singer, too, but so far his control is incredible." He shrugs.

"And apparently she knows ... _everything._"

Bella nods and reaches out a hand to introduce herself like she holds court with supernatural creatures every day. "I've heard all about you, Emmett. It's nice to finally meet you."

I shake her hand and marvel at its warmth (_I don't go around touching humans all the time ... UNLIKE my virgin brother, apparently_. I bet that fucker's a total perv. Stalking teen girls and sneaking in—).

"Emmett," Edward growls a warning.

"Pfffft," I respond in my trademark mature manner. "Jas, how are _you_ handling the — ya know what? Fuck that. What the hell? Was all this a set up? Have you met her before? How the FUCK am I so out of the loop?"

"It was your turn, son."

I spin to face behind me, all vamp-fast and shit, where I see both of my "parents" barely containing their amusement. _HOW THE FUCK ARE THEY ALL GETTING SHIT BY ME?_

"You have such a penchant for teasing the others with your bevvy of practical jokes and such," Carlisle explains, no doubt enjoying showing off his ridonk vocabulary. _I know what 'penchant' means, jerkoffs. I just choose not to use it. Because it sounds douchey._ "So, Edward and Alice came up with this little ... ruse."

Esme giggles. I stare at my "mother" in amazement.

"MOM!" I yell, offended that she would help in all this. _Okay, I'm lying. I'm a little bit proud of her. I'm also a little bit proud of Edward. Dammit, I think he heard that._

"Honey, you were due. Get over it. We did it because we love you," she says, leaning into Carlisle and wrapping her arms around him.

"You fuckers are sick," I say. _WARNING: Epic pout in progress._

Alice comes bounding in, immediately jumping on my back like an capuchin monkey (_They're small; get it?_). Monkey nails me across the back of the head with her hand.

"What?"

"Give us some credit, Big Man!" she shouts in my ear. _I do not remember what I did in my human life to deserve such loving siblings. Yes, I'm being sarcastic._ "Think of how _badly_ I wanted to tell you about Bella! She's gonna be my best friend, and she even lets me pick out clothes for her and—"

She bounces so hard, I wonder if Jasper should get jealous.

"Eww, man," Edward groans with a grimace. "That's your sister."

Jasper's face curls into that look he gets when ... well, when he gets really fucking mad. Which is rare. But there _is_ a tasty human in the room (_pause for growling Edward_), and his eyes _are_ looking a little black, so maybe he's just worn thin.

"DUDE! I was not!" I shout to defend myself. "Thinking about Alice ... I just thought ... the way she was _bouncing_ ..."

Suddenly, the twisting anxiety from thinking I'ma have to fight my brother (_he is NO fun to fight with when he's pissed — NONE_) relaxes when I feel the weight of Tiny lifted off my back. Rose tosses her toward her own husband and wraps her arms around me. I feel instantly centered and calm. I can't tell _who_ did that — Jas or Rose. I choose to believe it's Rose. _Awww, right? Go ahead. I can already hear you cooing & sighing._

"Baby," she says, earnestly, "I told them not to, but they never listen to me."

I look in her eyes, imagining they used to be blue, and kiss her lips quickly. "Babe," I start off like I'm gonna say something really mushy and romantic and I-wanna-get-in-your-pants-like. "I'd follow you into the deepest, darkest depths of hell, I love you so much." She smiles wide, loving me right back as I continue.

"But you are, by far, the worst fucking liar."


	39. Outtake by Kitsushel

**Pen name: **KitsuShel

**Rating: **M

**Title**: Broken ~ A Parachute Outtake

**Summary: **Moments in Emmett's POV taken from the main story, Parachute.

**AN:** Many thanks to HMonster4, AccioBourbon and TheHeartOfLife for hosting this and allowing me to be a part of it!

...

**O_o_O_o_O_o_O_o_O_o_O_o_O_o_O_o_O_o_O_o_O_o_O_o_O_o_O**

...

_**August 13, 2005**_

The sun beat down, warming my skin, as I sat on our front porch steps in the muggy Chicago air. Yawning, I looked at my watch again and wondered where the hell Ed was. When I had offered to babysit his kid for him, I didn't know it would be at the ball crack of dawn. Okay, maybe it wasn't _that_ early, but thanks to my classes, I wasn't used to being awake before noon anymore.

"Finally," I muttered as my brother's silver Volvo pulled up in front of the house. He hadn't even turned off the car, before the little ball of engery was flying into my arms.

"Unca Em!" Jack shouted, right in my ear. Wincing, I pulled away and managed a smile for the tyke.

"Hey, Squirt. Ready to spend the day with Uncle Em?"

He nodded enthusiastically, his green eyes bright with happiness. Edward jogged up the path and dropped the kid's backpack next to us on the stairs.

"Thank you so much, Emmett. Victoria had a meeting today, and I couldn't get out of work. Mom said she'd be back around four."

I nodded. "It's cool, bro. Jack will be fine."

Ed smiled and squatted down in front of us and ruffled Jack's hair. "Be good for Uncle Em, okay son?"

Squirt nodded and grinned, his reddish brown hair flopping into his eyes.

"Okay, Daddy! I luh you!"

Ed kissed the top of his head and replied, "I love you, too, Jack."

He stood up and headed back for his car. "Thanks again, Em!" he shouted as he pulled away and Jack and I waved goodbye.

"So, what should we do now, Squirt?"

Jack tapped his chin in thought, comically. His eyes lit up and he started to bounce on my lap.

"Ugh, kid, watch the family jewels!" I muttered as I barely escaped a toddler knee to my nuts.

"Let's swim, like Nemo! Pease? Pease? Pease?"

He batted those big eyes at me, and I could help but smile. "Sure, kid, let's see if Grandma left out your kiddie pool."

As we made our way through the living room, Jack pulled on my jeans.

"What's up, kiddo?"

"Did MeMe make chocwate puddin?" he asked, gazing up at me with a hopeful look in his eyes.

"Uh, lemme check."

After making a pit-stop to check the fridge and finding no pudding, I figured a trip to the store wouldn't hurt. I picked the munchkin up under one arm and grabbed the keys to my Jeep with the other. I stood the giggling child on the ground next to the Jeep and opened the door. He peered inside before turning back to me with a confused look.

"What?" I asked cluelessly.

"No seat."

I scratched my head and pointed inside. "Uh, yeah, those are called seats, kid."

Jack shook his head and walked over to Mom's SUV.

"No, Unca Em. Jack's seat!" he exclaimed pointing at the driver's side passenger window. Curiosity took hold, and I peered into the back seat.

"Shit," I whispered under my breath as I came face to face with a gray and black car seat.

"Uh oh! I gonna tell MeMe that you said bad word, Unca Em!" Jack said in a sing-song voice.

"Huh, well, how about we make a deal, munchkin?"

He looked up at me questioningly. "What kinda deal?"

Two hours later, the two of us were squishing and splashing around in a plastic pool full of chocolate pudding. When Jack first suggested it in the grocery store, I had my doubts. But sitting here now in my swim trunks, it was worth the $200 that I paid out. Suddenly, a screech from the house sent icy chills down my spine.

"EMMETT MCCARTY CULLEN! What in the HELL are you doing out there?"

I looked up to see my mother standing with her hand on her hips. If this had been a cartoon, steam would have been rolling out of her ears. 

"MeMe!" Jack called, hopping up and rushing towards his grandmother.

Esme held up a hand to halt his progress. "Oh no, no, no! You are not touching me nor stepping foot into my house like that!"

She glared at me and waved her arm at the mess of brown goo. "What is that? Please, for your sake don't tell me mud, Emmett."

I shrugged and gave her my cutest smile. The one that my girl Rose always sighs over. "Nah, it's pudding, Ma."

Her eyes widened and she shook her head. Bending down, she ran a finger down Jack's cheek and tasted. "Mmmm, that's good, isn't it, Sweetie?"

Jack fell to his butt and started giggling. Esme stood straight and sighed. "Let me get the hose." 

...

**O_o_O_o_O_o_O_o_O_o_O_o_O_o_O_o_O_o_O_o_O_o_O_o_O_o_O**

...

_**May 13, 2006**_

...

Quickly downing the shot that my cousin handed to me, I winced as the Jose Cuervo burned a trail down my gullet.

Tre laughed and slapped my back. "Take it like a man, Emmett."

I turned around in my seat and looked out across the dance floor of _Temptation_, a nightclub in downtown Chicago. Graduation was next week, and I wanted to wait until then to celebrate my birthday, but the Martin brothers were having none of that. Al nudged my shoulder, and I looked over at him. His glasses were pushed up to the top of his head and his blue eyes were glassy.

"Emmy ish finelly a man!" he slurred as he swung his arm around my shoulders.

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. "I don't know where you've been, but I've been a man for a while."

I easily outweighed the pair by a hundred pounds of pure muscle and towered over them by a few inches, more so in Alistair's case. He was small in stature, but easily made up for it in intellect. The man was practically a genius.

"Yesh," Al continued, "but you don't toin 21 every day, y'know."

I nodded in agreement and look down at the beer in my hands. This wasn't how I pictured my first time at a bar would be. I always thought that it would be a fun event, with my father and brother along for the ride, but that wasn't the case. The past eight months had almost destroyed my family. Everyone had been throwing themselves into their various jobs in order to stifle the overwhelming sense of loss that surrounded us.

Even after moving back home with us six weeks ago, I've barely seen my brother. Not a day has gone by when I haven't thought of my nephew and I couldn't begin to imagine what Edward was going through. The day that I came home from class and Mom told me the news will be forever branded into my memory.

_..._

_**September 28, 2005**_

_..._

"MOM! I'm home," I shouted as I let the door slam shut behind me. As soon as I saw her rushing towards me with tears streaming down her face, I knew something was wrong. I reached out and cupped her face.

_"Mom? What's wrong? What happened? Is Dad okay? Edward?" I started to ask frantically._

_She let out a sob and collapsed against my chest. "No, baby, they're fine. It's Jack."_

_My heart started to pound. "No, Ma, not Squirt. He's only been gone less than two weeks! What happened?" _

_She blinked out a whole new set of tears. "He's missing, Emmett. He disappeared from a park. Edward is booking a flight for the two of us to Phoenix immediately."_

_"What? I'm coming, too! What about Dad?"_

_She shook her head. "Your father has surgeries scheduled, but he's rescheduled the rest and will meet us down there in a few days. You, my dear boy, need to stay here. You graduate this year and you need to stay focused. Having you down there worrying with us won't accomplish anything, honey. Jack will be fine, I know it." _

_My heart ached and I wanted to put up a fight about going, but then Edward came down the stairs and I lost my will to argue and rushed over to him. He hugged me back tightly and I felt him shaking like a leaf._

_"Thanks, Em," he whispered._

_"No problem, Ed. Squirt's a fireball, he'll be fine."_

_"I hope so, Em," he choked out in a voice hoarse from crying._

_As I watched them drive off two hours later, I prayed to God that it was true and that Jack would be waiting when they landed in Phoenix. _

...

Demetri handed me another beer and sat back down on the stool next to me.

"So, what are going to be doing with that fancy Engineering diploma that you're getting, cousin?"

I shrugged and smiled slightly as I thought about the single bright spot in my life. Rosalie.

"Rose and I are going to open our own business. Customizing and designing cars. She majored in Art and minored in Mechanical Engineering."

I reached into my pocket and wrapped my hand around the small black box that was nestled there safely. If losing Jack from my life had taught me anything, it was that time was short and life came with no guarantees. After we graduated, I was going to ask Rose to marry me. I figured that she'd either say yes or kick me in the nuts. I was really hoping for the former. I swallowed the last of my beer and motioned for another. 

Three hours and a full bottle of tequila later, I was a step below wasted. I waved to my sloshed cousins before unlocking the front door. I felt bad for that cab driver. I really hoped that Tre didn't puke in the guy's car.

The huge house was eerily quiet. Edward had driven up with my parents to visit my mom's family. I still had no clue how I got out of that trip. Grandma was awesome, but she was a little on the bonkers side.

I trudged my way up the stairs and kicked off my sneakers before flopping down on the bed. I picked up my stereo remote and hit play. As Seether blasted through the speakers, I wondered if the universe was playing tricks on me.

...

_I wanted you to know, that I love the way you laugh._

_I wanna hold you high and steal your pain away._

_I keep your photograph and I know it serves me well._

_I wanna hold you high and steal your pain._

...

I picked up my phone and shot a text off to Rosalie. 

'R U busy?'

_* 'No, just finished some laundry. What's up?' *_

'Hvng a bad nght. Cum over?'

_* 'Give me twenty' *_

I sighed and tossed the phone onto my night table. I closed my eyes and ran my hands roughly through my hair as the music washed over me.

...

_'Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome_

_And I don't feel right when you're gone away._

_You've gone away  
You don't feel me here... anymore_

...

I sat up and looked directly across the room to where an 8x10 photo of Jack sat upon my dresser. He was smiling widely, showing off all of his teeth. His face had dirt smudged across one cheek and leaves in his hair. The picture had been taken right after last Thanksgiving's football game. Dad and Edward teamed up again me and Squirt. Between my bulk and Jack's ability to run between their legs, we had easily won the match. I rubbed my chest, trying to alleviate the ache that was residing there.

...

_The worst is over now and we can breathe again._

_I wanna hold you high, you steal my pain away._

_There's so much left to learn, and no one left to fight._

_I wanna hold you high and steal your pain._

...

Fuck that. The worst wasn't over yet. We had to live with his loss every damned day. My breaking point felt closer and closer to overwhelming me. My eyes stung with tears and I hastily wiped them away, after placing the photo back in it's place. Figuring that I had time to wash off the smell of smoke and liquor off of me before Rosie got here, I stripped off my clothes, setting the ring box carefully in my nightstand drawer, and stepped into the shower. The hot water pounded against my back and rolled my neck muscles, trying to loosen them up.

_..._

_'Cause I'm broken when I'm open._

_And I don't feel like I am strong enough._

_'Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome._

_And I don't feel right when you're gone._

_You've gone away, you don't feel me here anymore._

_..._

I wondered if Jack was alive and happy wherever he was. Did he have a good home? Food in his belly? The luxury of a hot shower? Something snapped and the tears started to fall uncontrollably. Despair and anguish hit me like a wave as I crumpled to the shower floor sobbing. I sat up and pulled my knees to my chest, the steam from the hot water condensing on my skin where the water didn't reach. Suddenly, I felt a light touch on my shoulder. I looked up into Rose's face, which was mirror of my sadness. 

"Oh, Em," she sighed, before toeing off her shoes and sliding into the shower, fully clothed, to sit behind me. She wrapped her arms around my shoulders and another sob worked it's way out of my chest as she laid her head against my back.

"Fuck, Rosie. Why does it still hurt so much?"

"Because you love him, Em. There's always going to be a spot inside of you that will hold Jack's memory."

I turned and looked into her cerulean eyes, which were full of sadness and love. "I wish you could have met him. I should have introduced you sooner."

"Ssh, don't beat yourself up, baby," she whispered before placing a sweet, gentle kiss on my lips.

I reached up to cup her face, gazing down at her with admiration and adoration, before deepening the kiss. I needed something to ground me; pull me away from this madness. I needed her.

I slowly stood and pulled her up with me. I grabbed the hem of her wet shirt and pulled it over her head, tossing it out on to the bathroom floor. I need to feel her skin against mine, tangible evidence that I wasn't alone. She stood before me in nothing but a loose pair of sweat pants, that were hanging dangerously low because they were soaked. Her eyes searched mine for a moment before speaking.

"Are you sure, Em? You can't hide your grief by fucking it away."

I yanked down her pants and she placed her hand on my shoulder for balance as she stepped out of them. As we stood, face-to-face, I pulled her naked body against mine and chuckled darkly.

"I know I can't 'fuck it away', as you so eloquently put it, but I do want to forget it for now and lose myself in you. Is that so bad, Rosalie?"

She instantly melted against me. "Emmett," she sighed. "I'm here for you, however you need me."

"Just let me love, you. Please."

Her hands found their way into my hair and she pressed her lips against mine hungrily. My body yearned to become one with her. She was my solace, my haven. I needed to touch and feel and be buried in her warmth. What felt like only moments later, her legs were wrapped around my waist as I pounded her against the shower wall.

"Fuck, yes! God, Emmett! Just like that," Rosalie cried out, gripping my hair tightly. I groaned and pressed further, deeper, trying to hit that spot that would send her over the edge. I couldn't control the world outside of this room, but I could control this. I could give her pleasure and make her come undone. My mouth nipped at her ear lobe as I felt her tighten around my cock. Her body shuddered as it found its release, and I followed shortly after, a feeling of accomplishment surging through me. Knowing that I had been the cause of her orgasm always sent me into a tailspin.

"Ughhhh," I grunted as my seed spilled inside of her. "Fuck, I love you, Rose," I called out.

I rested my head against the cool tiles of the shower, trying to draw breath into my aching lungs. Rose's legs loosened from my waist and slowly slid down to the floor. She pressed a soft kiss against my chest, right above my heart.

"Do you feel better now?" she asked quietly.

I pulled back and nodded, looking down into those blue eyes and I saw everything: my past, my present and my future. I didn't want to wait until graduation. I wanted to ask her now. I pressed my lips lightly against hers and smiled after I pulled away. I could do this. I could move forward with Rose by my side.

She gazed up at me with her own smile and bemused look on her face.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing, babe. I'm just happy that I have you."

Rose sighed and wrapped her arm around me, hugging me tightly.

"Me too, Em. Let's get out of here before we turned into prunes."

"Yes, dear," I laughed and reached out for a couple of towels as she turned the water off.

Fifteen minutes later, we were curled up in my bed, just holding onto each other in silence.

"Rose?" I asked quietly. 

She turned her head to look at me. "Yeah, Em?"

I took a deep breath and extricated myself from her arms. Opening the night table drawer, I pulled out the little black ring box, keeping it hidden from her for now.

"I need to ask you something important, okay?"

Her eyes widened and she nodded, wary of where the conversation was going.

"Where do you see us in the future?"

Rose's face went slack in surprise before she cocked an eyebrow. "Erm, I thought we had this all worked out, Emmett. We're going to move into an apartment and start our car business."

She blinked suddenly and her face fell. "Oh. Are you trying to tell me that you've changed your mind? Dammit, Em. If that's the case, just spit it out!" she said angrily, tears brimming in her eyes.

"Shit! No, no, no! I wasn't talking about that Rose. I was talking about us," I responded, motioning in between our bodies.

Her brow furrowed in confusion and it might have been the most adorable thing that I had ever seen.

"What do you mean? We've been dating for over a year, and we're moving in together. I'm not following you."

I swallowed and brought the box into her line of sight. She gasped and her hands flew up to cover her mouth. Tears dripped down her cheeks and the droplets formed dark spots on my blue sheets.

"Rosalie, you own my heart. You have since the first day I saw you in our Applied Mechanics class over fourteen months ago. Every time I feel like I can't love you any more, you do or say something that makes my heart expand just a little bit more. You've been my best friend and my confidant. You've held me and seen me at my weakest; letting me cry on your shoulder countless times over the past six months."

I swallowed and blinked back my own tears. "I can't imagine my life without you. Losing Jack made it hit home that life is too short and we have no guarantees of tomorrow. But I want to promise you each and every one of my tomorrows for the rest of my life. We don't have to do this anytime soon, if you don't want to. I'll wait forever for you. So, Rosalie Lillian Hale, will you please be my wife?"

She dropped her hands from her face and threw herself into my arms, sobbing. 

"Of course, Emmett! Yes, I'll be your wife!"

I reached up and took her left hand. I reached into the box and removed the ring before sliding it onto her fourth finger. I kissed her knuckles and looked up into her face, which was shining with happiness.

"I love you, Rosie," I whispered against her lips.

"I love you too, Em. Forever," she replied before kissing me with everything in her.

I closed my eyes and my future laid out before me. No longer empty and barren because of Jack's loss, but slowly coming back to life. It wouldn't happen overnight, but I was confident that we'd eventually get there.

I would never stop praying for a miracle though. 

...

**O_o_O_o_O_o_O_o_O_o_O_o_O_o_O_o_O_o_O_o_O_o_O_o_O_o_O**

...

_**June 18, 2010**_

...

I pulled up in front of my parent's house and cut the engine. After taking a deep breath and blowing it, I turned towards Rosalie in the passenger seat. She smiled serenely at me and I instantly felt calmer. I ran my hand through my hair and stared at the front door of the house through my windshield. 

"What do we say, Rose?"

She chewed on her cheek and shrugged slightly. "We're not far, so I say we wait until next month."

I nodded and smiled at her before opening my door. I met her at the front of the car and our hands instinctively sought each other. I stopped at the bottom of the porch stairs and looked down at my wife, rubbing her non-existent baby bump. We had just come from the doctor's visit that confirmed that Rosalie was eight weeks pregnant and we were both over the moon.

"Waiting is good," I muttered. I wasn't sure who I was trying to convince more: Rose or myself.

Rose placed her free hand on my forearm and patted it lightly. "It'll be fine, Em. Let's go in here and have a nice visit with your mom so we can plan what to do for your brother's birthday tomorrow."

I closed my eyes and sighed. "I'm scared about how he's going to take the news. He's just starting to be more like himself. Finding this out might send him spiraling back into a dark place."

"He'll be fine, Emmett. Knowing Edward, he'll be sad too, but mostly happy for us. You're going to be a great dad." 

I leaned down and kissed her lightly. "You always know just what to say. You'll be a wonderful mother, Rosie."

She smiled and tugged on my hand, leading me up the stairs. I jerked on the knob and held the door open for her before letting it slam shut.

"Mom! We're here!" I called out, earning a smack on the shoulder from Rose.

"What? Shit, this house is huge, you know that."

She motioned across the great room where I noticed that my parents were sitting on the couches, along with a woman and a boy. The woman was a pretty brunette with a pair of chocolate brown eyes and a heart shaped face. I flashed her an apologetic smile for barging in like the ass that I was. I looked over at my mom, who looked unusually frazzled. She smiled at us and gestured towards their company.

"Emmett, Rosalie," Mom greeted us softly. "This is Isabella Swan and," she cut herself off and looked over at the seated pair.

The boy took a deep breath and stood up. My heart started to race and my chest felt tight. I briefly wondered if this was what it was like to have a heart attack. His eyes were a brilliant green and his brown hair had highlights of bronze shining through. That coupled with the way he nervously ran his hand through his hair was all Edward. I stood there in shock, staring down into the face of my brother's replica. My brain refused to think his name; trying to protect me if this was all a misunderstanding.

"Jack. Jackson Swan," the boy spoke up confidently.

I heard Rose gasp beside me, but I couldn't tear my eyes from him.

"No way," I whispered, my heart refusing to listen to my brain anymore. I heard my mother speaking in the background, but I couldn't focus on what she way saying.

Jack cocked his head to the side and eyed me carefully, as if he were trying to figure me out. He closed his eyes and smiled.

"Did you fill a blow up pool with chocolate pudding?" Jack asked, opening one eye and squinting at me.

I grinned through the tears dripping down my face. "Yep. Your grandma was so mad at me, and she hosed us down outside before she let us back into the house. She has pictures of it somewhere."

My heart felt it was about to burst through my chest and my legs started to shake. I dropped to my knees and started to sob.

"Jack," I whispered out in a strangled moan.

The boy's eyes widened and filled with tears of his own before he flew at me, throwing himself into my arms.

"Uncle Em," he cried, squeezing me tightly.

I rocked backed and forth slowly, reveling in the feel of him. Jack was alive. He was here and in my arms. After a few moments, I let him go, but my emotions were still out of control, so I grabbed onto Rosalie as my anchor. When I was more composed, I walked over to the brunette and hugged her tightly.

"I don't know who you are or how this happened, but thank you so much," I whispered into her ear.

Rose and I took a seat on the couch as we began to listen to Bella Swan's story. By the time she was finished, I felt like I had just stepped off a roller coaster ride. At first I was heartbroken and hurt that Jack was all alone. Then I was furious at that skank Victoria. Next came awe that this girl, who wasn't much younger than I was, put her life on hold to become a mother to my nephew. Relief washed over me at that point, knowing that he had been loved and taken care of for the majority of his time away from us. After voicing her opinions about Victoria's involvement with drugs and possibly leaving Jack in Seattle, my fury came back in full force. Then Bella talked about heading back to their hotel, and I snapped.

"You're talking as if you'd just let her walk out of that door with him, if that's what she chose," I scoffed after Mom suggested that she spend the night here. 

Bella looked at with me wide, frightened eyes and I tried to give her a smile, my heart going out to her. It was easily to see how much she loved Jack, but there was no way I'd stand for him to possibly up and disappear again. Not after we had just found him.

"Don't get me wrong," I said, trying to keep my voice kind. "I like you and you did an awesome job of taking care of little man here, but we're his blood. You can't just pop him in front of us and then take him away."

"Emmett McCarty Cullen," Mom interjected sternly. "You will not talk to her like that. She is his mother." 

I looked over at her, incredulously. "She is not his mother. Victoria is. As much of a piece of shit as she is, she's his mother."

Jack jumped to his feet, shaking slightly. "Bella is my mother. You won't take me. I wanted to know you guys and find you again," he started shaking his head back and forth, "but if you think that you're going to take my mom from me, then you're crazy." He stood defiantly in front of Bella, silently challenging someone to argue with him.

My mother walked over to him and placed her hand on his shoulder, smiling slightly. "No one is going to take your mom from you. I promise," she spoke softly to him.

"You can't say that!" I found myself yelling. "You can't make a promise like that to him! Edward is his father. Do you think that he'll just keep his mouth shut when he finds out? Let this stranger walk away with his kid that he's been mourning over for the past five years?"

"She is his mother in every way that counts. It's plain to see that she loves and adores him and the feeling is quite obviously mutual. As much as I missed my grandson, I love him enough to not threaten to rip him from the only mother he knows. I know this is difficult, but it's something that can be worked out. I will not allow you nor your brother to steam roll over this girl."

My mother glared at me and I suddenly felt like I had disappointed her. I closed my eyes and ran a hand over my face.

"You're right, Mom, I'm sorry. But if I feel like this, can you imagine how Edward is going to react? He's going to go ballistic. You need to start thinking of some way to break this to him easy."

There was no fucking way that Edward was going to let Jack walk out of that door. None. All I knew is that I would back my brother 100% on that.

The room grew uncomfortably quiet, but was soon broken by the sound of a car outside. I couldn't help the small smirk that grew on my face as I heard Edward's voice. I looked up and saw the surprise on his face, but his eyes were glued to Bella, not having noticed the boy to her left. He gave her that panty-dropping smirk and my stomach dropped.

"Well, hello there," he said softly, his eyes still not leaving Bella's face.

Shit, it figures. He hasn't shown interest in any women since Victoria screwed him over, but the one time he does and it's the one woman who could rip him to shreds because of Jack. Fuck that. My loyalty lays with my brother, and I'd just have to figure out a way to protect him.

...

**O_o_O_o_O_o_O_o_O_o_O_o_O_o_O_o_O_o_O_o_O_o_O_o_O_o_O**

...

**AN**: Well, I hope that I've done Emmett justice! It was challenge and I enjoyed writing from his POV, letting us get a glimpse inside his mind. Thanks for reading and supporting the 30 Days of Emmett! 


	40. One Shot by Ladyeire3

**Ladyeire3**

**AU/AH Emmett/Rosalie**

**An Unlikely Champion**

**Summary: My vision of two lives brought together sooner and without Carlisle's intervention…**

**MONSTER A/N **

**Please note that I took time to go over…and over…and over the timeline in the case of Emmett and Rosalie. They were born in the same year and both lived during the depression. I have first hand accounts of the trying and difficult time via my grandmother. I've tried to stay very close to canon but feel I must mention that canon Rosalie and canon Emmett are the product of their years as vampires more than their years as humans. Emmett would still be kind and fun loving but probably not as boisterous and Rosalie would very likely NOT be the bitter woman she was in the books as there was nothing to force her hand in that direction.**

**I hope I did justice to this idea, which is courtesy of my dear and wonderful friend Aspenleaf. Thanks, love…YOU ARE AMAZING!**

**Thank you also to my deliriously wonderful beta, cullen. Sis, you do me the biggest honor by correcting my terrible punctuation and keeping my thoughts in order. You make me better on so many levels. Thanks!**

**Lastly, thank you to hmonster4, TheHeartOfLife, and AccioBourbon for organizing and pimping this idea. All three of you are simply amazing women, and positive forces in the fandom.**

Emmett Dale McCarty was a man of simple means. His needs had always been met by his God fearing parents, and he was brought up to be respectful. He was wise beyond his youthful appearance, realizing early that not all children being raised in the mountains were so fortunate as to have parents who truly loved them as his loved he and his sisters. His mother abhorred ignorance and taught all of her children to read, write, and calculate sums. Her father had been the head master of some prestigious school in Massachusetts before meeting her mother and moving them to the Great Smokey Mountains. While Emmett's scholarly aspirations were met in the cramped quarters of their small cabin, his survival skills were honed in the woods with his father. Yes, Emmett McCarty lived a somewhat charmed life, and he knew how very lucky he was.

When the Great Depression hit, he was 14 years old. His family, living largely off the land already, didn't feel its keen sting right away, but when they did he was forced into manhood, perhaps a bit before his time. His older sisters remained with their parents to help, but in his first year away, Tilly died of consumption and Martha was married off. He would never forgive himself for not being there when his family needed him, but they needed the money more.

For the span of nine months, he worked as a handyman at a bank in Gatlinburg. When it closed its doors, he moved further from his family to seek work doing whatever people needed. The rails had become his only transportation but he wasn't alone in those large, dark train cars. His affable and kind spirit drew people to him like children to a sweet treat. The men riding the rail with him, the people at the next stop wealthy enough to hire one or several of them, they all fell for his large eyes and deep dimples. Of course he knew full well that his looks helped in putting people at ease, and, if he wanted to work, he had to appeal to those senses in people.

As time wore on he found himself in Rochester, New York seeking out a friend of his old employer at the Gatlinburg bank. Mr. Alfred Hale was the manager of the Rochester Bank and Trust. He was also a stuffy sort of man who looked down his nose at those he felt beneath him. If Emmett had not been so tall, he was sure he would feel the weight of that particular stare himself. Nonetheless, he was given the job of tending to the bank's upkeep as well as Mr. Hale's lawn. It was a mind-numbing job but gave Emmett enough money to live on and still send some to his parents in Tennessee. He often recalled his last conversation with his parents before leaving.

"_Son, you are setting out on your first journey as a man, make us proud," his fathers said._

"_I'll do my best, Pa. I'll send money home every chance I get. You and Ma just take care of yourselves. I promise I'll make it home when things are looking up."_

"_Don't you worry about us, Emmett. We'll be just fine. Be sure you keep enough money to take care of yourself, too. Can't have you working your fingers to the bone and then not eating on top of it. Take our love with you and this." Emmett's mother handed him the small family bible and her treasured copy of __Robinson Crusoe__. _

"_Ma, I can't take these." Emmett protested._

"_Stuff and nonsense, boy. You will take them and think of us every time you look at them. Now, get on your way before it gets dark. There's a storm headed our way and I can't be worried about you getting caught in it."_

The only other thing he could remember from that brief moment was the enormity of the embraces they each gave him. It made him feel weightless and as though the entire world rested on his young shoulders.

Now, as he sought out the silver lining in the cloud of his life he could only think of two. The money helped his parents and, his arrangement with Mr. Hale put him in close proximity to the bank manager's daughter, Rosalie.

Rosalie Hale was the most beautiful woman Emmett had ever seen. He was all too aware that he was also not the only man that felt this way and seeing as how he was socially beneath her he felt lucky to be allowed a glimpse of her daily. He needed nothing more.

As days turned into weeks he proved his worth to the bank as well as the Hales personally. Not only did he tend their yard, but he helped fix anything that needed mending. It was just such an occasion that brought Miss Rosalie to Emmett on a beautiful spring afternoon.

"Mr. McCarty, could I bother you for some help, please? I've just noticed that the knob on the kitchen door has stopped turning, and I'm afraid Martha will shut herself out when she goes to the grocer's later."

"Of course, Miss Hale. Tell Martha to leave the door open and I'll be 'round in two shakes to sort it out."

Rosalie giggled at Emmett's use of such an odd metaphor.

"Two shakes of what, Mr. McCarty?"

Realizing that Rosalie had yet to leave his presence shocked Emmett to the point of asking her to restate her question.

"Come again, miss? And please, I prefer to go by Emmett. Mr. McCarty just seems too stuffy when my hands are covered in dirt and grease."

"I asked what you meant by 'two shakes'. I've never heard that saying. Actually I've never heard most of the rather humorous metaphors that come from you."

"Well, I meant that I would be there quickly. I suppose I'm just accustomed to hearing my pa use similar speech. I'd be happy to translate anytime you've a need for it, Miss Rose."

"Thank you, Mr...Emmett. I'll just go tell Martha you'll fix the door shortly."

With a tip of his hat he bid her goodbye and returned to cleaning the mess he'd made of his tools. He felt like a right giddy school-girl after his brief exchange with Miss Hale but couldn't bring himself to care enough to wipe the ridiculous smile from his face.

~EDM~

Time continued to turn and Emmett's life didn't alter much. Rosalie approached him quite often with odds and ends to fix and each time would quietly observe him at his job. They talked when prying eyes were otherwise occupied. On first glance, it would seem the two were as different as night and day but on the inside they were kindred souls. Both had a fiery passion for learning about anything that piqued their interest. Books were always a favorite subject of discussion, as were cars, astronomy, and baseball. Emmett never tired of their short discussions and her endless questions about the how to's of fixing things.

While working on a leaky sink one afternoon he couldn't help but overhear a conversation she was having with her only suitor, Royce King. He felt terrible about listening in but not quite enough to stop. He reckoned if they didn't want to be heard they probably should have closed the parlor door.

"Rosalie, as much as I would love to have dinner with your friend and her family I really can't. Father has set a meeting with the board for tonight, and I have to attend. Duties and all."

"It's fine, Royce. I understand. I hope you won't be opposed with me going alone then? I've missed Vera so very much and would love the chance to see her little boy again before we leave for our honeymoon."

"Of course I don't mind. Though I do hope you keep an eye on that handyman of yours. I don't like the way he looks at you, and I don't want him following you. As a matter of fact, I think I'll just go have a little talk with him now."

"Don't be ridiculous, darling. Emmett is harmless and really very helpful here. I wouldn't want you scaring him off. Now, why don't you take me for a stroll around the park before you leave?"

Once Emmett could no longer hear the muffled sound of their voices he let out a rather disgruntled "humph". How dare that dandy think _he_ could somehow be a danger to Rosalie? If anything Emmett was sure that _Mr. Royce King, II_ had plans of a rather sinister persuasion toward Rose. He had never liked the leering glances he gave her when he didn't think anyone was looking. As a matter of fact, everything about the man set Emmett on edge. He didn't like him but knew what he thought didn't matter a smidge as Royce was rich and the Hales were under the impression that quality breeding equaled a respectable, responsible person. How very wrong they were.

~EDM~

His walk home was always one of reflection. Reflection on the day that was nearly done, on where his life had led him, and the mysteries he had yet to solve. He lived a great deal of his life in his own head and was just beginning to realize how very lonely it was. What he wouldn't give for a family of his own when the world became more stable and he wasn't scraping by to support himself and his parents.

The thought of his parents reminded him that he really should send a long letter with his next paycheck. He had neglected telling them much about where he was just in case he wasn't there very long, but as it had been quite a long time, he felt they deserved to know what kept him busy and that it seemed likely he had found something of a permanent situation in Rochester.

So lost in his thoughts was he that he neglected to watch for oncoming foot traffic as he turned the next corner on his way to his boarding house.

"Oh, my goodness. You could at least watch…Emmett?"

The voice he had come to adore and hear nightly in his dreams filled his ears as he thought of the many excuses he should give to the stranger he had just barreled down.

"Miss Rosalie? I'm so sorry for running into you! Please forgive me? I was so lost in my thoughts that I stopped paying attention to where I was going. My feet seem to have some sort of homing beacon, and I rarely have to think of where I'm going on my way home. Are you all right? Do you need to sit down?"

The words continued to spill from his mouth as though he were regurgitating them, and his face flamed as he realized he had still not taken his hands off her shoulders. They had landed there reflexively when he ran into her. He quickly shut his mouth and dropped his hands like her shoulders were on fire before raising his eyes, still half closed, to look at her.

"I'm okay, Emmett. You scared me more than anything. Do you live around here?"

"A couple of blocks over still. I'm renting a room in Mrs. Sullivan's boarding house. Is it too improper to ask what you are doing out so late in the evening…and without a chaperone to make sure you get home safe?"

Her light laughter sent his head and heart into a nose-dive, and he felt the sensation all the way down to his toes. As well as other places that were even too improper to think about.

"No, it's not improper at all, and if you were anyone else I might actually be affronted. I'm on my way home from my friend Vera's house. Royce was originally supposed to be my companion tonight, but he had an important meeting to attend and couldn't make it. I assure you this stretch of sidewalk isn't dangerous, and I'm quite safe."

_I'll just bet he had something more important…like a floozy and a bottle of gin, _Emmett thought.

"Still, it's awfully dark, and I don't like the idea of you walking alone. Would you mind if I just accompanied you to your gate? It would help me rest easy this evening."

"I really don't want to keep you from your home, Emmett." Rosalie looked into his eyes and that same feeling her laughter gave him was suddenly amplified by one hundred.

"It's no bother for me and like I said, I won't be able to sleep well unless I know you're safe and sound in your own home."

"All right then. I'd very much appreciate your walking me home, Mr. McCarty."

"Lead the way, Miss Hale."

~EDM~

Emmett made good on his promise to write a nice long letter to his parents and sent it along with his normal monthly donation to them later that week. The action created a light, easy feeling in him and he hoped his mother would write back with news from the homestead and Gatlinburg soon. He longed to see the Smokey Mountains and hear his mother's melodious voice spin tale after tale in front of the fireplace. Simpler times would be a welcomed relief from the constant struggle currently taking up residence in his head.

As much as he knew he wasn't the sort of man the Hales or even Miss Rose would approve of, he couldn't help feeling a connection to her that ran deeper than her gloriously beautiful face. She was everything he could have ever imagined having in a partner but was destined to marry into the wealthiest family in town. He knew she really had no idea what her life would be like; Emmett was fairly certain all Royce was concerned with was having the most beautiful woman to call wife in front of company but would ignore her existence in private. He'd seen it and read about it and truly wished Rosalie would end up with a better existence than that.

He also knew that he had fallen in love with her spirit and intelligence long ago. He just hoped that one day there would be another woman like her who would be happy to marry a man of little means.

After a particularly tough day dealing with the planting of new shrubs at both the bank and the Hales, he returned to the boarding house to find a letter with familiar handwriting waiting for him. His father, a man of few words, had taken pen to paper and written him. He couldn't fathom why his father had written when it was his mother who took such great pleasure in the task.

_Dear Emmett,_

_I'm writing to thank you for the money you continue to send. It's always a help around here. I know you must be confused as to why I'm writing and not your mother. She's sick, son. Quite sick and I'm not sure the Good Lord plans to keep her here with us much longer. I'm not telling you this to make you feel guilty, but rather so you can prepare yourself for the day you receive news that she's gone. Pray for her safe delivery to Heaven and know that she is always thinking about you. Your letter was a great surprise for her and made her smile for an entire day. I think I benefited as much as she did from that smile._

_I know I don't say this much and that you're a grown man and might feel put out by it, but I love you, son. We both do, and we hope your life there in New York is full of learning experiences. Your mother said she hopes you're attending Sunday services regularly, and that she prays for you._

_I will try to write when there is a change in her health, but the doc says he doesn't expect she'll be around by fall. I'm not sure what I'll do without her. I'm not sure what any of us will do without her. _

_God bless you, son, and take care of yourself._

_Your Father,_

_Dale_

Emmett stared at the paper for the longest time trying to make sense of the words. His mother was a formidable woman, and he always assumed she would be around long after his father had passed. It seemed he was wrong and the heaviness of that thought brought tears of sorrow to his eyes. Manly or not, he cried. He cried for the impending loss of the first woman he had loved, no matter the nature of the love. He cried because he couldn't be there to see her face or kiss her cheek or hold her hand just one last time. He cried for his father whose heart he knew was breaking more every day. He cried for his own lack of a soul mate to share his grief with.

After allowing himself to wallow in the pits of despair for a few more minutes, he pulled himself up, put the letter away in his small wardrobe and took himself down to the kitchen for his nightly meal. He would pray every day for his mother. His only hope was that she wouldn't have to suffer long before she was taken; she of all people deserved to die quietly and painlessly.

~EDM~

A month later, Emmett received the letter he had been dreading. His mother was gone from the world, and he hadn't been there to say goodbye.

The morning after he learned of her passing he got up extra early and went to pray in the church near the Hale's home. He stayed for as long as he could, pondering the life his mother had led and the life she had wanted for him. He was resolved to make something of himself in her memory.

Rosalie noticed the lack of joviality in Emmett's demeanor when he arrived to mow and prune their yard later that morning.

"Emmett, I've noticed the spring in your step and your laughter has been missing recently. Is everything all right?"

"I've just received some news from back home, and I'm feeling a little lost. Don't you fret about me, Miss Rose. I'll be just fine."

"I'm sure you will, but I truly miss your wonderful sayings and lessons on how to fix things. Are you sure you don't need to talk about it?"

"I'm not sure it's appropriate for the help to unload their woes on the boss's daughter. Truly, I'll be fine," he said.

"Emmett, you are not just 'the help'. You are my friend, and if something is wrong then I want to be able to help in one way or another."

Her firm tone and stern look were nearly scary enough to make him apologize for not coming right to her with his problems. In truth, she reminded him a bit of his mother in that moment, a fact that prompted him to open his mouth and spill his heart.

"I've just received news that my mother has passed on and it's difficult because I didn't have the chance to tell her I love her one last time. I've been gone so long now that I can barely remember what she looked like, and I'm afraid her face will fade from my memory completely soon."

Rosalie stood stunned for a moment before she hurtled herself toward the mountain of a man in front of her. His soulful eyes and boyish face were wracked with a grief she had never known, and all she wanted to do in that moment was hug him until her arms burned from the exertion.

"Emmett, I am so very, very sorry for your loss. You know you can never forget your mother as long as she lives in your heart. I wish there was something more I could do for you. A hug and kind words seem wholly inadequate."

"It's more comfort than you could imagine Rosalie. Thank you for this…"

As Rose was preparing to respond to his heartfelt thanks, she felt a hand clamp down upon her shoulder…hard.

"Take your hands off of my fiancée, you backwoods brute." Royce's voice was tight with anger, and his hand flexed possessively and painfully on her shoulder.

"Royce! Let me go! I was merely hugging Emmett as a source of comfort. He learned today that his mother has passed."

"I don't care if his God damned leg is rotting off. He will not touch what is mine. EVER!"

"I'll just be going now, Miss Hale. Thank you for your kind words. It was incredibly helpful. Mr. King, I would never think of pushing myself onto Miss Hale or of touching what was not mine to touch. Good day to you both."

Emmett seethed just below the surface but knew if he let loose the fury that he felt toward that possessive ass in the house he would likely lose his job. The possibility of finding another job, and likely without the Hale's reference would be very low. No, he needed to calm down and pray Royce had gotten out his aggression with his words, so that he wouldn't try putting Emmett in a position that would insure his immediate removal from the property.

By the lunch hour, Emmett felt certain any conflict with Mr. King had passed. He was determined to stay the hell away from Rosalie for the remainder of the day as that would bring with it the possibility of another interaction with King. He threw himself into his work and finished just shortly before seven in the evening.

As with every other day, his walk was filled with reflections. Today, they all centered on his mother and his life in Tennessee. Remembering himself, he checked around corners though his brain was engaged in his thoughts. After nearly running Rosalie down, he was determined to watch where he was going, though he wouldn't have minded running into her again.

Just as he'd made it to the very same corner where he had bumped into her, he heard a muffled scream. Cautiously he looked around the corner and into an alley to find Royce and three other men circled around a tall, greasy man whose hands were ripping at a woman's coat.

He was thoroughly outnumbered but could not walk by knowing a woman was in danger and would likely be taken in the most violent way.

"Hey, what the hell do you think you're doing?" he yelled.

"Why, looky here, Rose! It's your little gardener, Mr. McCarty."

Rose? Rosalie was the woman being bound and disrobed in a dirty alley? Emmett felt his face flame with anger and his hands shook as he clenched them into fists.

"It would be wise to let her go now and walk away before I beat you all into unconsciousness."

Two of the men scoffed but turned to tell Royce they were leaving. There was mention about no "fine piece of ass" being worth a fight, no matter the odds.

_Good, two down. Two to go,_ Emmett thought as he rolled his head on his neck and shook his hands out. The life of a drifter during the depression had taught him how to take care of himself. Just as people always assumed he was of a simple mind because he was from the mountains of Tennessee, they also assumed he wouldn't know how to actually fight because he was nothing more than a handyman. Honestly, people had no idea the things he had been taught or learned from experience. He could most definitely handle himself in a fight.

"Well, gentlemen? Why not let the lady go about her business? She doesn't deserve whatever it is you are trying to give her."

"You know what, McCarty? I don't think it's any business of yours what I do with my fiancée. She's been teasing me with that sinful body and mouth for months, and I'm about to make sure that the cow is worth marrying before I actually go through with it. If you know what I mean. I just figured Bill here could join me in the fun."

Emmett noticed the other man, Bill, snake his hands to the front of Rosalie's dress and grope her breast over the material before ripping it away too. Her whimper shot to his heart as he watched her knees give out. She hung limply in Bill's arms as he felt Royce's fist connect with his jaw.

Lucky for him, Royce really was a dandy and the sting was short lived. Unlucky for Royce, he was hopping around screaming that his hand was broken. Emmett had a damned strong jaw. Dispatching the pansy, Royce with a quick uppercut and hard right hook to the abdomen he made his way over to the Bill character who had backed up and tightened his grip on Rosalie. He was also now holding a broken liquor bottle up in front of him, waving it around wildly.

"I swear I will kill her if you come any closer. I will! I'll do it!"

Emmett continued his path toward the pair until he saw the man dig the jagged edge of the glass into Rose's cheek. She yelped before passing out again.

"Just let her go, and we'll pretend like you were never here. Royce can take the fall for the both of you."

"Now why would I want to do that when I can walk away with this prime example of womanhood and show her a good time? You just stay there and she won't get hurt, you hear? STAY. THERE!"

As Bill yelled this, he made a fatal mistake. In trying to show his dominance and Emmett's helplessness he began caressing Rosalie's breast again but lost his grip on the bottle when her body began to slump heavily to the ground. It seemed he wasn't aware she was unconscious. As he lost his grip and the bottle fell, Emmett saw his opportunity to save the only woman besides his dead mother that he had ever felt anything for. He lunged at Bill, shoving his fist into the side of the man's face as he simultaneously wrapped his free arm around Rose. As gently as he could he lowered her to the ground before Bill could gather his wits. He then turned to face his opponent.

Fists made contact with skin and bone as they both fought to gain the upper hand. In the end that distinction went to Emmett as Bill and Royce had imbibed one too many bottles of cheap gin before coming upon Rose. Both men were lying on the ground, unable to move but still breathing as Emmett stooped to pick Rosalie up. He would have to visit the police as soon as he got her home and just hoped that they would believe his story. He was no fool, and he knew the influence the Kings had on the local constabulary.

For now, he would worry only about the beautiful and slightly damaged woman in his arms.

"Thank you, Emmett. You saved me," Rose whispered.

"You're welcome, Miss Rose. Hush now. I'm taking you home."

Rosalie continued to drift in and out of lucidity muttering impossibly random things. As Emmett neared her house, her arms tightened around his neck.

"I think I love you, Emmett."

And then she was gone again. Emmett knew not to put much faith in the ramblings of a clearly delusional woman but the thought that she might actually mean those words warmed his broken heart.

~EDM~

As Emmett sat in a hard wooden chair at the Hale's kitchen table, he pondered exactly what had happened in the two hours since he had arrived.

"_Mr. McCarty? Oh! Oh no! What happened?" Mrs. Hale sobbed as she spoke._

"_Miss Rosalie encountered some trouble on her way home this evening. I'm just glad I was on my way home and stopped things before they got very out of hand."_

_Mr. Hale walked into the room as Emmett was finishing his statement and demanded an explanation as well._

"_Mr. Hale, I'm not sure what I should tell you and would much rather wait until Miss Rose can give you her account, at which time I'll add what I know of the situation."_

"_Very well, but you will stay here until she is quite capable of talking."_

"_Yes, sir."_

_After half an hour of being patched up by Martha, Rosalie made her way into the parlor where Emmett and her father were waiting._

"_Martha said you wanted to know what happened, Father."_

"_Indeed I do, young lady. Who did this? Did Emmett here have anything to do with your state?"_

"_No, Father. I fear you won't believe me when I tell you who did do this to me. Before I continue though, you should know that Emmett saved my life tonight. He was quite brave and fearsome." She smiled weakly at Emmett before straightening her shoulders and continuing._

"_I was on my way home from Vera's, and I ran into Royce and some other men I'm not acquainted with. He called me over and began introductions. I could smell the liquor on his breath, and it made me uneasy. As I tried to pry him away and convince him to go home, he grabbed me and threw me to another man who began…he started…he…" She broke down in tears and gasping sobs as she tried to continue relaying the part of the story she remembered._

"_At what point did you happen upon them, Mr. McCarty?" Mr. Hale asked._

"_It was just as Bill, the man she was thrown to, began ripping her coat and dress. I had no idea it was her initially, sir. I was raised to protect women and those weaker than myself so I'd intended to come to the woman's aid no matter who she was."_

_Emmett picked up where Rosalie left off in the tale. As his last words rang out in the room the only other thing you could hear was the ticking of the grandfather clock in the foyer._

"_I'm sending for the police and I'd like you both to tell them what you just told me. I'm also sending for Mr. King's father. He should be here to hear the accusations. Emmett, I'm sorry for fearing the worst of you, and I thank you greatly for protecting my daughter. I promise to stand behind you and against any assertions the Kings try to level on you. You're a good man and deserve good things. I will not let you suffer an injustice at their hands."_

After nearly two hours, they were still going over everything with the Kings and the police. After another hour of sitting stiffly in the kitchen, Martha came in to invite Emmett into the parlor.

As he entered, there was only Mr. King and Mr. Hale in attendance. It immediately put him on edge. Though Mr. Hale had promised to stand by him, he knew the elder King's influence reached far and wide. Emmett doubted he would stand a chance if this were to go the way he feared it now would.

"Mr. McCarty, please have a seat." Mr. Hale waved his hand in the direction of the only available chair as Mr. King stood.

"Mr. McCarty, let me tell you first how upset this whole situation makes me. Royce has had several encounters with the authorities in the last year, and I fear this will not be the last unless I take matters into my own hands. I have offered Mr. Hale a large settlement to keep this quiet, so that I can get Royce straightened out without legal proceedings looming over my head. I understand you are under his employ and have been a respectable, responsible young man the entire time. I can only wish my son would follow such an example rather than trying to belittle and beat you down. In light of everything that has happened, I am quite willing to also offer you a small settlement for your silence on the matter. I hate to use my influence, but if you choose to deny my offer then I will have no recourse but to pursue legal matters against you. I will above all protect my name, even if I have a son so undeserving of it." The gleam in the old man's eyes was eerie and unsettling. He was threatening to pin this all on Emmett if he refused the offer, know it would force his hand. Emmett also realized Mr. King was under the impression he was unintelligent enough not to ask questions. He figured now was as good a time as any to put that notion to rest.

"Very well, Mr. King, but I have conditions. First, the amount of money will be disclosed and agreed upon before I will make any such agreement. Second, if Royce so much as steps within earshot of Miss Rosalie I will not hesitate to make him regret it. I will also not be held responsible if he is hurt after tonight's tussle or any others in the foreseeable future. All of this will be in writing, signed, witnessed, and copied for all parties involved. Once that is done, I will uphold my end of the bargain and not speak of this matter again."

The stunned look on Mr. King's face told Emmett all he needed to know. He did indeed think he was making a deal with an ignorant backwoods boy when he was actually dealing with a man as savvy as any businessman he had ever known.

"I will have the papers drawn up tomorrow morning and will bring them here myself. The amount I had considered was twenty five thousand dollars. A fair price to pay a man of no money for his silence."

"It would be a fair price for a poor man with no thought of the future, but I've a family in Tennessee that needs help, and I'd like to have a home here and continue my education. I've a mind to become a business man, maybe even a lawyer. I'd say you have the means to at least double that and still not feel any lighter."

"FIFTY THOUSAND DOLLARS? You must be insane. You are in no way capable of making this kind of negotiation when I could very well drag you through hell with a simple phone call!" Mr. King railed.

Mr. Hale interrupted his tirade with a suggestion that strongly resembled a warning.

"I think you would be wise to take this settlement offer, Mr. King. I've already contacted my friend, the Mayor, on the off chance you decided to try something like this. He has agreed to say nothing unless he is called. You see, he's been having you watched and has noticed some rather…shady dealings after hours at your office. I think it in your best interest to not incite his anger, don't you?"

"Well…I never! Fine, fifty thousand it is. I suppose you'll be looking for more now yourself, Mr. Hale?"

"Oh no. I'm quite content with what you've offered. You see, I never trusted the market, and so I've saved every cent I've earned. This leaves me quite capable of continuing to live as I always have. What you offered will merely help inflate my savings a bit."

The following morning Mr. King arrived, lawyer in tow, with the paperwork and a check written out to Emmett. Emmett took his time reading over the document to make sure nothing was slipped in that would compromise his life in any way, and when he was quite satisfied with everything he signed the paper and hoped he was doing the right thing. He knew if he refused not only would Royce Jr. not go to jail or be held any more accountable than he would be now, but Emmett himself might actually be incarcerated for something he didn't do and he'd have no recourse to fix it.

As King and his entourage left the Hale's home, Mr. Hale turned to Emmett with a questioning look.

"I'm not quite sure how to broach this topic, but I feel as though you are something of a son to me. Especially after this debacle. I feel the need to help you protect your new wealth, Emmett. Would you allow me to help you open an account at the bank? We can transfer or wire money to your father as well, I know you said he depends on your help now. Would you let me help you?"

"I think I'd really appreciate that. I'm still not sure I like the idea of putting it all in the bank, with everything that's happened, but I trust you."

"Thank you for that, Emmett. I will protect your money as though it were my own. I promise nothing will happen to it."

~EDM~

Even with his new found wealth, Emmett continued working for Mr. Hale, who worked around his new schedule willingly. As soon as his new bank account was set up and things calmed down, he enrolled in the University of Rochester's School of Business and got to work learning all the things he'd always wanted to. It was exhilarating.

After several months and daily talks with Rosalie, he asked if he could court her, to which she gave a shy yes before hugging him fiercely. Of course he asked her father first, afraid he would be turned down because of his lack of proper breeding and societal influence.

"_Sir, I'd like to ask your permission to court Miss Rosalie. I realize I'm no one's first choice but I've an affection for her that can only be described as love, and I would treat her right for the rest of our lives. I think she feels the same toward me as well."_

"_Please sit, Emmett. Now, I realize that our first choice of suitor and husband for our daughter was a young man of some influence but we all know where that got us, no? In light of that I would be happy to see her loved the way I love her mother. You are plenty capable of supporting her, if it comes to that and I have every faith that you will finish your schooling and do great things in life. You're a good man, Emmett McCarty, and for all our despicable social aspirations in the past I am truly sorry. Yes, I give you permission to court my daughter." _

Their courtship was of a respectable duration and the day he presented her with a token of his affections and commitment there was no hesitation in her answer.

They were married the following autumn amongst falling leaves and friends alike. Emmett was even able to send for his father, always wishing his mother had been able to live long enough to see his happiness and meet his bride.

Rosalie's parents had saved almost her entire life for her wedding. They refused to let Emmett pay for anything and sent them to the Catskills for two weeks. They figured Emmett had enough on his hands with trying to arrange for his absence from the university and securing them a home of their own.

He secured purchase on a house not far from her family's that afforded them plenty of room to grow while still being modest. Rosalie agreed wholeheartedly and they arranged for furnishings and the like to be delivered and set up while they were learning their way around one another's bodies over their two weeks away.

It was a marvelous honeymoon. He now knew his wife's body as well as his own and reveled in that knowledge. She was anything but a shy lover and that thrilled him. They were a perfect fit.

~EDM~

Five years later

"Charlotte Mae McCarty, get your fanny out of that tree this instant! I swear, her heathen ways are all your fault, Emmett. She climbs like a monkey and is more at home in the dirt and her dungarees than a dress."

Emmett laughed at his wife's outburst as she continued to ramble on and putter around their kitchen in all her swollen bellied glory.

"If this one comes out swinging it wouldn't surprise me in the least." She laughed.

"I'm sure at least one of our children will be civilized enough to stay clean for more than an hour at a time, dear. It's not like Charlotte had the best role model in Robert. He's all boy and just expects her to follow his lead."

Both husband and wife looked out their kitchen window, their combined gaze falling on the little boy with blond curly hair and deep set dimples and the little girl with dark brown hair and the bluest of eyes. They were a family rich in love and full of potential.

"I'm so glad you found me, love. I don't know where I would be without you. I have everything I always knew I wanted and a few things I didn't know were important. I shudder to think what would have happened to me that night all those years ago in that alley. You were and still are my hero."

"I've never been happier to have a bruised face and cracked ribs in my life, Rosie. In saving you, I saved myself. You and those kids are all the life I've ever wanted. Now, how about you show your hero how much you appreciate his crime fighting before the kids come in for lunch?" Emmett wiggled his eyebrows in a suggestive manner, causing Rose to laugh hysterically before grabbing his hand and leading him to their room. Their children continued to play outside, completely unaware of the passion and love being exchanged behind closed doors.

Theirs was a life that could have gone completely wrong and ended far too early. Instead the bump they hit led them down the road of a life uninterrupted by pain and heartache to a happy home, with happy, beautiful children, grandchildren and peaceful ends in one another's arms.

The End


	41. One Shot by EverIntrigued

**heartfelt thanks to hmonster4. she's my personal wonderwoman: author extraordinaire and patient, all-wise beta. thanks for letting me participate in the '30 days of Emmett'! you're so cool. **

**also much gratitude to Fluent in Sarcasm, ssarrahh1 and cocomama101 (yeah, I need a lot of hand-holding) for prereading, giving suggestions and comments!**

**XOXOXOXO**

"A little help please?"

The boy turns to the voice of the pretty blonde girl. He assesses the girl, sizing her up, and she's definitely _very _easy on the eyes. First glance reveals an impressive chest and long shiny blond hair, it's a pity that the desk is covering the rest of her. He's taken aback when he meets her blue eyes, flashing in annoyance.

With an arched eyebrow and huff-sigh, she gestures to the fallen pencil again. It's rolled near his foot and she's too lazy to get up and get it. He sheepishly smiles; flashing his dimples as he retrieves the pencil, presenting it to her like it's a diamond, both palms open and presenting it to her as if she was royalty.

She's not amused. She takes the pencil and cracks a sardonic half-smile to humour him.

"I'm Emmett, by the way," he says. She cringes and Emmett is afraid that he accidentally used his 'too loud' voice again.

"I'm not interested."

She writes a few sentences while Emmett stares, a little shocked and a lot curious. What a bitch.

There's a few beats of silence…

"Wait. Really? Emmett?" She says, her voice going a little high at the end. Emmett grins and shrugs. She lets out a little laugh and says something that resembles a 'that's unique' comment.

There's still something condescending in her voice and normally Emmett would go back to his physics homework, but it's kind of impossible. No one's ever _not _liked him – at least, not without a reason – and never_ this_ fast.

Using the kind of cool that only cocky determined boys can have, he whispers conspiratorially, "My parents were high."

The girl lets out a resigned sigh and gives up on solving the gravitational energy a rocket ship possesses.

"Really? Do share." Her voice is monotone with an edge of sarcasm, but Emmett notices that the pencil is flat on her desk and she's paying attention.

_Oh, she's interested. If not in me, at least in my story._

"My mom was kind of a free spirit, ya know? Hippie, weed, tie-dye, the whole nine yards. Somehow she got 'Emmett' tattooed on her arm, and then decided that it was fate that her first born be named that."

"What if it had been a girl?"

"Well, lucky for her, fate also decided to give her a boy."

"Wow. That's actually… kinda funny."

"Yeah," Emmett nods, happy that this girl's engaging in conversation with him. She's super pretty and she's starting to talk…

"Too bad none of it's true, right?"

...and she's smart.

"Yeah," he admits, not perturbed at all that he was caught lying, "My parents are just weirdos." Emmett (still a name that takes some getting used to) is smiling happily.

She lets out a laugh-sigh-huff, and Emmett is amazed at how much she can communicate with one breath… amusement, a little disbelief, maybe some annoyance and then amusement again.

That's talent.

People around them start packing up, and they realize that study hall is over.

"What's your name?"

She starts to put her books and papers in her bag, and Emmett's shoulders sag in disappointment that she's ignoring him. The girl is quick and efficient, but as she leaves and brushes by Emmett, she tells him,

"Call me Rosalie."

**XOXOXOXO**

Rosalie. Rosalie. The girl is still fresh in his mind, and Emmett's glad it's finally lunch. Maybe he could ask Alice about her. If anyone would know anything about the mysterious Rosalie, it'd be her.

He finds his lunch buddies at their regular lunch table, and is pleased to see that Jasper did indeed bring Alice along. Mike and Tyler are attempting to look cool while eating their lunch, because Jess and Angela are eating with them, but they're doing a poor job of hiding the horny.

He slides down beside Alice, and Jasper quirks a brow, because Em usually sits besides Tyler.

Great. Now it's awkward. Emmett was really uncharacteristically nervous. How would he broach the topic without it looking obvious? Or pathetic? Or desperate?

"So… Alice. How are you?"

Alice smiles inwardly. "Just spit it out, Em." Behind her, Jasper's immersed with the pace that the cafeteria line is moving, which, knowing Jasper, meant that he's listening intently to the conversation.

"Um. Do you know Rosalie?"

Alice's eyes are shining with glee, and impishly, quirking her eyebrow as she says, "Yes."

"Okay." Emmett narrows his eyes, knowing that Alice is purposely withholding any details. "What do you know about her?"

She shrugs, "She's kinda bad-ass awesome. She's wicked confident, but cool."

He refrains from gritting his teeth. "Anything else?"

"Not really. We're not close, Em. We're the type of friends that, if it's Monday… we ask each other how our weekend was, and if it's Friday – we ask what our plans are _for_ the weekend. Then we complain about lack of sleep, creepy Mr. Banner and bad hair days."

Jasper intervenes, "Why the sudden interest, dude?"

Emmett's surprised, not knowing that anybody else was eavesdropping. He glances to the others at their table, pleased and relieved that they are in their own little world.

"I dunno. Just met her today in study hall and I'd never seen her before, so I was just wondering."

Alice replies, "Well, she just transferred here. But like I said, Rosalie's nice, but she's cool. As in, not _warm_ cool."

Mike snorts. "Dude. Rosalie? People are right. She's _frigid_. I was trying to talk with her and she shot me down before I even said a word!"

"Yeah... I heard she has, like, a kid and stuff." Jess says, clearly annoyed that Mike was chatting up another girl.

Noticing all of the disbelieving looks around the table and Angela's disapproving one (she's never been one for idle gossip), Jessica persists, "It's true! I heard it from Rosalie herself!"

The flash of disappointment surprises Emmett and he's makes sure to morph back into an easy grin. "Cool beans."

Tyler and Mike look at Emmett with puzzlement on their faces. Normally he'd be all sad and shit that there was a hot chick not interested in him. But, Em still looked like his typical happy state.

Emmett notices the looks, because subtlety is not Tyler or Mike's forte. "I was just curious," and curses under his breath. In making sure there was no expression on his face, he made it too obvious that this girl was different. He quickly steers the conversation to the sucky blood type test they had to do in biology, a little paranoid-panicky about his weird reactions.

**XOXOXOXO**

Every other day, Emmett and Rosalie talk in study hall.

At first, they're the kind of friends that complain about homework and sleep, eerily similar to the conversations that Alice described before. Later on that week, on Wednesday, they move on to music, in which Emmett learns that Rosalie has horrible taste.

She's all about overgrown boy bands like The Script, The Fray and OneRepublic and when he tries listening to them, he is shocked by how cheesy they are.

"No guy would actually say that."

"Maybe _you_ can't." Emmett notices that Rosalie's eyes are vibrant and lovely when she was teasing him, "But, they can."

"Nah. Even if they actually felt that. They wouldn't say it. I mean, really? '_What am I supposed to do when the best part of me was always you/ What am I supposed to say when I'm all choked up and you're ok?_' You might as well just cut off the man's balls."

Rosalie huffs, and they agree to disagree on the matter. Later though, Emmett realizes what Rose was talking about. He's beginning to enjoy the bands. They aren't half bad.

Emmett, however, following in the footsteps of his liberal feminist hippie mom (that part of the story was true), is all about female rockers like Florence and the Machine and Janis Joplin.

Rosalie is surprised at first, but makes an effort to not judge them by their appearance and listens with an open mind.

The next time they meet, it's a Friday, and they talk about movies. Emmett likes exploding things and horrors, while Rosalie loves indie stuff and Ellen Page.

"See ya Rosalie," he says as the bell rings, ending their discussion on the merits of movie-sex.

She leaves, strutting with class and sexiness, "Call me Rose."

It's the kind of dramatic exit that any girl would be proud of, and the kind that any guy would remember.

Emmett smiles. _Rose_. He likes that. He likes it a lot.

**XOXOXOXO**

Now he and Rose are the kind of friends who make plans for the weekend.

The first Saturday, they go to the movies, and decide on a genre that is completely out of both of their comfort zones - 3D animation.

This is also when Rose starts calling him Em.

The second weekend, Rose manages to rope him into doing early Christmas shopping, and then Em manages to convince Rose to try greasy Chinese takeout noodles.

They're walking around the mall, in synchronized strides, and he notices Rose looking at the baby store with longing. Shit, so maybe she did actually have a kid, and that's a scary thought, that the girl he was crushing on had a baby at home.

"Um… do you want to go in?" He asks, and praying to god that his voice and his hand was steady while gesturing to the bright Baby Gap store. Knowing that Rose did, but was probably too shy to ever say so, he leads the way, "I mean, no big. I was curious anyway."

Em walks in, not expecting the… brightness. To say it was well-lit would be an understatement. And the colours! It looked like Easter with all the pastel-y colours. There was a winter set up, and he couldn't believe all the fucking options that little kids had!

It was so clean, so bright, so colourful and so… mini. While the store had displays covering the walls… the stuff was so tiny. Em goes to where Rose is, and she's holding a really tiny yarn shoe-slipper or something.

"Is that a keychain?"

Rose laughs, "No. It's a shoe, for babies!"

He looks at it in disbelief, especially since his finger was bigger than that damn thing.

"People… can actually wear that?"

He's so amazed and bemused that Rose feels so comfortable and with a new bout of confidence, she takes Em's hand into hers, and they walk around, with Emmett asking questions a mile a minute, and Rose answering them patiently with a smile.

"Wow," he says, amazed. They've looked at everything, and Em's still smug that they're holding hands. He won't ever admit it, of course, but looking at baby clothes with Rose was actually nice. Really nice.

"I know, right? Isn't everything just so adorable?" and Rose is gushing. Em never thought he'd see the day. Rose was all gushing and giddy. He smiled to himself. Even if he had to walk through numerous baby stores again, he'd do it if it made her this happy. "God, I can't wait to be a mom."

At this, Em perks up. "So… you're not a mom?"

He waits for a yes or no answer, but instead Rose, being a girl and wanting to be complex goes, "I just _want_ to be a mother." She pauses, "Do you still want to be with me?"

"Yeah, of course." So… did she have a kid or not? That meant no, right? She wouldn't need to 'want' to be a mommy if she already was one. Right. Good.

Afterwards, Em drives Rose home, since Rose can't find her car key in the humongous purse of hers. They reach the house, but before she even takes off her seatbelt, Em leans over and kisses Rose on the cheek.

It is soft and sweet.

Rose smiles. Then kisses him back, on the mouth, hard but still sweet.

Soft gloss with chapped lips, and it's dynamite with sparks flying like it's the fourth of July. Unlike any other boy she's ever kissed, Em doesn't choke her or slobber on her. He's not imposing, but he's definitely participating. They make out in the driveway for at least five minutes and both are flushed and a little breathless when they part.

Feeling confident, Em decides to ask about the rumours running rampant in school.

"You know, you have this rep at school," he says, treading carefully. Rose's not the type to be offended easily, but still… she's a girl, so…

"Really?" There's a knowing, expectant smirk on her face, sexy coupled with twinkling eyes.

"Erm. Yeah. A whole bunch of crazy stuff. You're frigid, you have a baby…" he rattles them off quickly, wanting to know the answers but not wanting to face her wrath, "I just wanted to know. I mean, it just seems kinda outrageous for one chick to have all this… sh… tuff." Emmett didn't want to say shit, because he's learned that serious conversations don't have swearing in them.

"Well, do you believe them?" She's expecting the fast 'No!' that normal people would give, but Emmett has this concentrating look on his face, and Rose realizes that he's seriously thinking about it.

A smile and a tinge of a blush blossoms on Rose's face, pleased that Emmett's going to give her an honest response.

Emmett's mind is running 60 miles an hour. Does he believe them? No. The Rose that he knows and the Rose that others know is different. His Rose is warm and laughing and can't use chopsticks properly. And, she wants to be a mother, but she isn't one yet.

"No."

"Good," she says with a tone that implies finality.

This conversation is over.

"So… how'd they come about?"

Rose sighs. Never mind, this conversation was not over.

"Well, who do you think made those rumours up?" she asks, but there's something in her voice that catches Emmett's attention. Her expression is expectant, hinting at something… Jess' voice also comes to mind…_"I heard it from Rosalie!" _

"You?" he says, his voice is a mixture of confusion and surprise. "Why? I mean, no guy would want to come near you!" he halts, afraid that he's offended her.

Her voice is soft, "You did, Emmett." Her hand's on the handle and she gets out of the car. She walks away, her back to him. Em wants to see her pretty face again.

"Wait!" He calls out, and then he pauses when she does turn around. He has no idea what to say. "Um. Can I call you?"

Rose's voice is faint, but the sincerity and the vulnerability reach his ears all the same. She nods, the blonde hair shimmering with the action.

"Call me your girlfriend."

He smiles.

He will.

**XOXOXOXO**

**tell me what you think?**


	42. One Shot by Fngrdust

Disclaimer: These characters aren't ours, but we did ask Santa if we could have an Emmett for Christmas. We haven't been good, but we're hopeful anyway.

**Pen name: **fngrdust (fngrcufs and lightstardusting)  
**Rating: **M  
**Pairing: **Emmett & Rosalie  
**Title**: Something Blue  
**Summary: **They were something old, but they were also something borrowed, until the day she asked if they could be something new. AH/AU.

**A/N:** Thanks to Hmonster4, TheHeartofLife and Miztrezboo for the hand-holding, picspam and quiet gentle (*snort*) encouragement. Yay 30 Days of Emmett - many thanks to the hosts!

* * *

I am lucky.

I am a lucky sonofabitch.

I've got this perfect life - a great family, a sweet condo in Back Bay, a business that has thrived since Jasper and I started it five years earlier, and the best friend a guy could ask for.

Yes sir, I am lucky indeed. Not to mention the fact I'm about to get even luckier, with the sinful blonde giving me the _fuck me now_ eyes.

If I can get the fucking door open, that is.

_"Hurry."_

Her voice alone is enough to make me contemplate breaking the damn thing down.

I work even quicker to get the key in the damn lock so we can get into my apartment and out of the hallway. The lock is giving me grief, like it has some moral opposition about what's going to happen.

I've got her back against the door and she's purring in my ear, taking the lobe between her teeth and bearing down. She's already working my zipper while simultaneously stroking me through my pants, making it even more difficult to perform the simple action of putting a key into a keyhole.

I'm beginning to think it's a lost cause and I'm seriously weighing the possibilities of running to the store for WD-40 versus just fucking her in the hallway. Just when I'm pretty sure the the key is going to wave the white flag, I feel the lock start to give. I flick my wrist and I'm in, sliding the key in with ease, like it's right where it belongs. _Dear God, let this be an omen. _

Before I have time ask if I can take her coat or offer her a drink, she's got my pants undone and her hand under my boxers and wrapped around my dick. As good as it feels, and _damn_ does it feel good, she's definitely taking the lead and I want it back. I walk her backward through the doorway, kicking it shut behind me, and press her against the wall. This is where I rule. I'm good in the living room. Fuck, half the time I never make it to the bedroom.

I can feel her mouth open against my ear, and she's mumbling something about how hard I am. I quiet her with a _shhhh_ because this is not the time for talking, it's not the time for thinking, it's just the time for fucking. My hands wrap around her hair, the color of sunshine but stiff from hairspray, and I pull back, tipping her head so that I have access to her neck.

"Fuck Emmett, I need you inside of me."

I have every intention of making that happen and I'm vacillating between just taking her on the couch or placing my hands on her ass cheeks and carrying her into the bedroom. Of course, this is the point when my phone decides to conspire with the door on the cockblocking and starts buzzing. Her slim fingers find the offensive distraction in my pocket and pull it out, quickly sending it flying across the room so it lands on the couch with a thump.

I should answer, it could be a client. It's probably not, but it _could_ be. I forget about the phone when her hands attack my already open fly. In a move that seems effortless, and I don't know or care why, she's got my pants and boxer briefs down in one fell swoop. She slides down my body and her knees hit the plush carpet with a soft thud. _So this is what she meant when she said she needs me inside of her? Well shit, works for me._

The phone's buzzing again and while it's faint from across the room, I can still hear it. As much as I'm enjoying what she's doing with her lips and her tongue and her _teeth, _I know I've got to at least check and make sure it's not a client calling. Neither of us have a 9-5 job, so she knows what it's like.

I take advantage of the fact that she's come up for air, stepping back and motioning for her to stand up. She pouts a little, but she still rises to her feet, leaning back against the wall like she's all of a sudden in no rush at all. Her shirt is unbuttoned and her skirt is hiked halfway up her thighs, even though I can't remember any activity that involved her clothes. She's like a fucking ninja. A ridiculously hot, half-naked, sex ninja.

Momentarily forgetting my phone, I push my body flush against hers, grinding myself against her, waiting for her to do that little gasp-moan that she was doing in the hallway. I don't have to wait long. Fuck, I don't have to wait at all, because every time I thrust against her she meets me, giving it right back. I lift her up and she works with me, placing her hands on my chest and pushing back against the wall for support while she wraps her legs around my waist.

She starts talking again, about how bad she wants me and every word goes straight to the spot she's rubbing against. I grab her chin and kiss her hard, not caring at all that she had my dick in her mouth a minute ago, just trying to make this last long enough to make sure everyone gets what they came for. She's gripping the front of my shirt and twisting it in her first and I'll be damned if I'm going to have to get the buttons replaced again. Why do they always go for the buttons?

I pin her hips with mine, trapping her between me and the wall, while I take her wrists and ease them up over her head. They both fit easily in one hand, which leaves the other one free to maneuver between us. I let go of her face and slide my fingers down over her collarbone and between her breasts. They're fake, but I knew that just from looking at them. It's not my preference, but she's fucking sexy as hell, regardless of whether her assets are store bought. Still, I miss tits; real, soft, perfectly imperfect tits.

I don't bother staying in the silicone valley long, because we're far beyond breast fondling at this point. There's only one thing she wants touched and it's currently grinding against my increasingly painful erection. I slip my hand between us, finding nothing but slick skin. She apparently got her panties off at some point. Fuck, maybe she never had any on. I groan at the thought and she pulls her mouth away from mine, scraping my jaw with her teeth as she moves her lips to my ear once again.

"Emmett, I really appreciate this whole seduction thing, but do you think you could fuck me now?"

Even when you are as lucky as I am, it's not every day that you have a gorgeous girl, naked and begging you to fuck her. I let go of her wrists, grazing my fingertips over the skin of her forearms, loving the way she shivers a little.

She lowers her arms slowly, pressing her hands flat against my chest, before running them up into my hair. She's pulling a little and looking me in the eyes and she smiles that little smile that says 'it's time.' I start to extricate my hand from between us, but she whimpers and pouts.

"Hey now, I seem to remember a 'fuck me' request. Yes?" My free hand traces the soft curve of her ass. "We can continue here if you'd rather... I've got all night."

She shakes her head no and wraps herself around me, her hands gripping my shoulders. I don't need to hold her up or use the wall for leverage anymore, because she's practically attached to me. Her boots heels are digging into my ass but hell if I care. She's voiced her needs and I was raised to honor a woman's request.

I step backwards, careful not to trip as I make my way to the couch. She feels like she doesn't weigh a thing, and I'm plenty strong enough to lift her, but I've still got three fingers inside her and I can't see shit because her hair is everywhere. Plus, she's distracting me with her mouth on my neck, biting and sucking and probably leaving one hell of a bruise.

We've been leading up to this point for weeks; interested glances across a conference room, a business card with her home number written on the back pressed into my hand at the end of a meeting, calls at the office to talk details that we both knew didn't need going over. We'd been dancing around this, but from the moment she opened the door to her apartment a couple hours ago, I knew exactly where we were headed.

And here we are.

And there she is. Splayed on the couch and panting, looking up at me like I am some sort of a god. And damn it, I feel like one. Grasping the back of the couch so I don't put my entire body weight on her, my knee finds its place on the leather, next to where her leg is twitching restlessly. Her hands are doing all sorts of wicked things, scraping over my chest before grasping my shoulders and then digging into my back.

The goddamn phone lights up _again _and the damn thing is like the Boston Lighthouse, it's _that _bright.

She pulls back, annoyed, and I don't blame her because I'm pretty damn annoyed myself. Reaching over, she grabs the phone off the couch and looks at the screen.

"Oh, this is rich." She reads the text that just came through. "_Whatever her name is, she can wait five minutes. xo, Rose._"

Kate's actually met Rosalie before but now is not the time for conversation about my knock-out (albeit pain in the ass, at this particular moment) best friend. "Not important, Kate. Honest to God, ignore it." I press the power button for a few seconds, shutting off the phone and throw it onto the coffee table. Rose is _not _going to mess this up for me this time.

Kate's expression is still one of annoyance until I press my lips against her tits (because while they are fake, they are still tits) and my fingers revisit where they'd been moments before and the haze glosses over her eyes. I try not to think about the damn text message from Rosalie, try to focus all of my energy and attention on Kate. And I have to say, I'm doing a bang up job of it... until the house phone rings.

"Are you shitting me?" Kate groans and throws her arm over forehead. I try to ignore the sound, try to just continue about my business with this gorgeous woman who is practically naked on my couch. Who is sexy and smart and funny and (most importantly) _available. _

The machine beeps and her rich, husky voice fills the room. It's the voice I'd heard daily for nearly ten years, the only voice that really mattered. _Emmett, you need to pick up the phone. We have important business to discuss._

And just like that, Kate's off the couch and collecting her personal belongings like she exiting a flight. "Kate, wait a..."

The skirt's already being hitched over those hot as fuck boots, which were apparently made for walking and not fucking this evening. Standing behind her, stark naked, I try to lure her back, running my nose along her neck as she buttons her shirt. My hands are over hers, trying to undo the buttons again and for a moment, I think it might work.

Until the house phone starts ringing again.

"Oh Emmett, we could have been so beautiful. But no." She runs her hand over her hair and picks up her purse from where she must have dropped it by the door. "It looks like you have important matters to deal with." At this point is when Rosalie's voice comes back over the speaker of the machine. "Fuck this, my vibrator may not feel as good as you, but at least it doesn't get calls from another woman."

Rosalie is still chatting away as the door unceremoniously slams I pick up the extension, while pressing the button on the machine.

"What?"

"You should really answer your calls, Emmett. What if I were someone from work?"

I lean down and pick up my scattered clothes, tossing them in the hamper in the hall closet as I walk past. "Ah, but you're not."

"Well, I sort of am... technically. I'm your caffeine supplier. Without me, you wouldn't get anything done. And then where would you be?" I open my mouth to tell her where I'd be right now, if she hadn't interrupted, but she cuts me off. "So, what'll it be?"

"You're asking me what I want from Starbucks in the morning?" I make my way to my bedroom, still pissed that I'd been interrupted mid pre-coital bliss. Pretty sure my voice isn't hiding the fact.

"That's right." At her answer, I sit on the end of the bed and flop back, exhaling nosily. My order never deviates, it's steadfast - black coffee, scone. And she knows it. Once in a while, if we're being "bad" we take a trip out to Flour Bakery so I can get a sticky bun and she can get the apple spice cake. But it's rare that we treat ourselves on weekdays since it's completely out of the way. Our waistlines probably thank us for the fact, even if our taste buds protest.

I don't answer her question because we both know that's not really why she's calling. "How'd you find out? That fucker Jasper told you that I was taking Kate out tonight, didn't he?"

Her reply is quick; I expect nothing less. "'That fucker Jasper' is my dear darling brother. Only _I'm _allowed to call him 'that fucker.' And it sounds more like you were taking her _in_. Really Em, why am I hearing about this from 'that fucker?' I should have heard about it from _you_, fucker." For a moment, I think I catch a hint of sadness in her voice and I'm about to apologize when I hear her blowing kisses into her phone, her signature goodbye. "I guess I'll let you return to that. Give Kate my regards." _No no, that wasn't at all sarcastic._

"She left since you kept calling like my jealous wife."

"Oh, that's a shame." _Yeah, she sounds really tore up over it. _ "You're too good for her and her fake boobs anyway, Emmett. I really did you a favor. Speaking of favors, I left a _Penthouse_ in the bottom drawer of your nightstand when I was there Monday for dinner. Don't say I never did anything for you."

Rosalie Hale, ladies and gentlemen, supplier of both caffeine and porn.

"You're a sweetheart, Rosalie."

"You know it. Love you."

She waits silently.

I sit up and lean toward my nightstand, intent on getting the latest and greatest of tits and ass, not saying a word.

"LOVE you, Em." She says it again, reiterating the point and waiting for my answer. "Come on, say it. You know you do."

"Yeah, I love you too."

One more kiss in the phone and she's gone.

And I'm alone.

**oOo**

No-hot-sex-with-a-gorgeous-blonde makes Emmett a grumpy motherfucker, and I'm still not thrilled with Rosalie when I wake up in the morning. I figure walking to the office will help blow off some steam before she shows up with coffee and pretends like nothing happened the night before.

When in fact, nothing did, except for me jerking off like I was in high school and Kate getting cozy with her Hitachi magic wand. Thank you, once again, Rosalie Hale. She's lucky I love her the way that I do.

And I do love her.

She may have royally cockblocked me, but Rose is still my best friend. She has been since sophomore year of college and she always will be. Since the day we met on the college green, I knew she was someone special. A wayward football went flying in her direction while I was playing with the guys from my floor. Most girls would have picked up the ball and walked it over. She threw it neatly, spiraling toward me and told me she was joining the game. Then she proceeded to kick my ass and made me buy her a burger afterward.

I'd never been so blown away by a girl before. She'd shown up at my dorm the next day and informed me I was her date for the night. She'd picked out my clothes and told me to meet her downstairs in ten minutes. I made it in nine and she showed up half an hour later. It was the first of many times I wound up waiting for her, but the sight of her when she did show up made it worth it. Every time.

Rose is nothing I ever thought I wanted in a best friend. She's demanding and headstrong and a royal pain in the ass sometimes. I can't imagine not having her around.

She's more than just a best friend. She's my person.

And through her, I met Jasper. Which lead to finding a business partner, figuring out my lot in life, and landing where I am today. Pretty sweet deal, if you ask me. I've got it all.

Okay, not _all._ I know there's more to life than a nice house, a fast car and two weeks in wherever we (yeah, I vacation with Rose) happen to land every year. And it's not like I don't want someone to share it with. I just want to make sure that when I do settle down, it's for good.

I want what my parents have. I see the way my father still checks out my mom. I caught them making out in the pantry the last time I was over for dinner. It was pretty weird, but I hope that's me someday. To be still so in love after 35 years that you just have to be touching whenever you're together. And you just don't get that with anyone. You have to find _the one_.

Kate probably isn't the one, anyway, but I'd bet even money she's a great lay and I'd like to know that from firsthand experience. Kate is smart and sexy and with a body that could, and probably does, stop traffic. She's also a business contact and I'm going to have a hell of a time ironing out that end of things.

But she isn't the first 'not the one' in the parade of women to get naked in my apartment. Okay, maybe not a parade, but still, she's not the first blonde that I've brought home. She's also not the first one to never make it off the couch.

More often than not, they think it's something, and I don't. With Kate, I thought maybe... but it doesn't matter what I thought now, because any _maybe_ is now a firm _NO._ I tried calling her after I got off the phone with Rose, just to say _sorry_ or _it's not what you think _or _I could come to your place_, but she didn't pick up.

Thank God for _Penthouse_, which by the way, people do not buy for the articles. _Playboy_? Maybe. But _Penthouse_ is for one thing and one thing only.

I make it to the office in record time, my strides brisk and quick, probably working out some of the pent up anger from the previous night. I'll be doing more of that later when I beat the shit out of the heavy bag at lunch. I'd started boxing in college and even though I don't have much time for it these days, it's a great stress reliever. Plus, it's good for business.

I round the corner to the converted brownstone that has been my home away from home for the past five years, the offices of MHC, Inc. Jasper and I started the agency right out of college, with nothing more than a dream, an up-and-coming local fighter and a loan from my parents. We don't try and compete with the big dogs, instead focusing on hometown athletes that are interested in a smaller firm that can give them more personal attention. Very Jerry McGuire.

Getting to the office early affords me the opportunity to be there before everyone else rolls in. It's quiet, cathartic; it clears my head and helps me refocus on what I'm there for, my job and our clients. Jasper and I were lucky to find this building on the cheap, a HUD home that was also zoned commercial. Place had squatters when we found it and it was mostly gutted but after a lot of elbow grease, and a little help from our friends, we got things up and running.

Soon after we started, Rosalie rented out the lower floor of the building when she started her event planning business. It was a blessing and a curse to have her so close. At the moment, I'm leaning toward curse, knowing that she could be lurking around any corner and fairly positive I'm not ready to see her.

As my computer powers up, I make my way down the back steps to grab the papers, immediately removing the sports sections. When I re-enter my office, I'm greeted with the smell of coffee... and the sweet scent of a caramel sticky bun that can only be from Flour Bakery.

Cautiously, I look around for Rosalie, knowing that she was the bearer of not only the coffee but the treat from our favorite bakery, miles out of the way from her route to work. I find a cup with the lid removed and the pastry, resting on a paper plate on my desk blotter. Picking up the coffee, I see her handwriting on the calendar for the night before.

_Sorry._

She's the only one who actually writes on my desk calendar. Notes littered throughout the days, things she's thinking or needs to tell me. Sometimes she'll write them while I'm in the office but, most of the time, I find them when she's nowhere in sight.

I fucking house that sticky bun, moaning the entire time about how damn good it tastes and I almost call her. Almost forgive her right then and there and offer her whatever she wants because the bun is _that_ good. Almost. The morning flies and, after a quick meeting with Jasper and a new client, I find myself sitting back in my office. Lauren left contracts on my desk while I was in the conference room, so I'm busy signing my name at the arrowed post-its when I hear the door open.

You know how your body can recognize certain people? Now, granted, there aren't too many people who have access to my office but I don't even have to look up to know it's Rose hovering in the doorway. It's a combination of her scent, her heels, and just... _her. _It's always been this way with her, though. She could walk in to a crowded fraternity basement in college and I'd immediately know she was there. Granted, she's the type to cause a scene whenever she enters a room. Or exits, for that matter.

What she's _not _is the hovering type, so I glance up and find her leaning her shoulder against the frame.

"Did she really leave?"

Pushing back from my desk, I weave my fingers together against the back of my head and recline in the chair. "She really left."

"Think she'll be back?"

"Hell if I know." Rose looks like she's sorry and, while she has given me the necessary space, she can tell that I'm still a bit irked. Her finger is running up and down the wooden frame of the door and she's not making eye contact.

She looks up and her eyes meet mine. "I was jealous."

"I know..." And I do know just how jealous she can be. Rose has always been very territorial when it comes to certain people. She guards me like a pitbull. Still, I have to remind her that it wasn't her place to do so. "But we're not together."

"I know. But you're still... mine." _Yeah, and you're someone else's. _"And I _did_ have something to talk to you about. Something important. I needed you."

Now she's got me worried. "If everything okay? You? Peter?"

"Oh yes, everything is fine. Great actually. I just really need to talk to you about things."

I nod once, accepting her words. "Get your ass in here, Hale."

And just like that, the apologetic expression is gone and replaced with an angelic one; only I know better. Rose saunters into my office, sliding my Zen rock garden across my desk so she could hop up on the black lacquer top. In a skirt. Of course.

"What the hell is that on your neck?" Apparently, we've moved past the part of the conversation where she is contrite.

"I bit myself shaving."

She snorts, but it's a delicate sort of snort. Classic Rose. "Isn't that why God invented turtlenecks, Em?"

"No, that's why God invented Kate." She rolls her eyes, but not before I see a flash of jealously in them. "Whatever, you're taking me to lunch." She says it like it's a done deal, like I don't have the option of turning her down.

"Rose, in case the desk and suit didn't give me away, I'm actually working here."

"Call it a business lunch. I have a proposition for you." She crosses her legs and I try valiantly not to notice them, the shape of her calves or how good they look from her morning runs. My fingers itch a bit because they want to touch. And hell, I've touched her legs plenty of times when they've been draped across my lap when we watch movies. But this type of touching would be different than that, so I keep them tucked behind my head.

I raise my eyebrows suggestively at her word choice. "Are you really in the position to be propositioning me?"

"You wish. I'm serious, it's work related. I'm here in a professional capacity. Besides, you know you were just going to sit here until your secretary ordered you a sandwich. What's this one's name, anyway?"

"Lauren. She started yesterday. She came highly recommended."

"I give her a week. I have pantyhose that last longer than your secretaries."

It isn't really that bad, but I had lost several assistants over the last year. Also, Rose doesn't wear pantyhose, she wears silk stockings which are currently making a distracting swishing noise every time she crosses her legs.

"It's not my fault they all leave when they find out I frown on mixing business and... other things." Okay, usually they leave once I have mixed business with pleasure, a fact Rose is all too aware of.

"Jesus, full of yourself much? Besides, you do business with Kate and you didn't seem to mind mixing other things with her... unless it was business." Rose raises her eyebrows at me, and I get what she's trying to imply.

"Rose, don't go there."

"What?" She tries to pull of the wide eyed innocent face but fails horribly. "I'm just saying. I mean, I know Kate. She's not exactly the _settling down_ type."

I raise my brow yet say nothing. Rosalie tends to think that none of the women I date are the _settling down _type. I just think that she's not a fan of the women I choose to date. Personally, I think that I have pretty high standards and I don't just jump into bed with anyone woman I come across.

Rose slides off the desktop and starts for the door. I keep quiet, knowing that it isn't worth getting into, especially since Kate isn't likely to be gracing my couch ever again. "Alright, Lance Romance. You, me, lunch, half an hour. I'll try to keep from jumping you, since it's business and all."

"No dice. I'm hitting the gym." I need to vent my frustrations on the heavy bag for a bit. "Someone brought me a delicious, but very fattening sticky bun this morning."

"And? I could wash my delicates on your stomach. You don't need to go the gym."

She can't get her way all the time, and I'm not giving in... all the way. "Checking out my abs again, Rose?"

Any sign of her being sorry was gone now. "Oh yes, Emmett. I do nothing but stare at your magnificent body. You are the sole reason I take twenty-five minute showers. I may not even make it through the day without locking myself in my office and..."

I cut her off, because after having her ass on my desk and her legs in my face for the last fifteen, I don't need that visual right now. "Well then, you don't really have time for lunch either, do you? Can it wait until dinner or do you really need to talk right now?"

"Fine. Dinner. But only because this one actually up and left your apartment. I'll call Peter and let him know he's on his own. He probably has some work he can finish up at the office anyway. I suppose you can entertain me." She walks toward the door slowly and with more hip action than usual.

"Rosie, I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave." It's always a battle for the last word. Always.

"Yeah, well if memory serves, you liked to watch me come too, but this _is _a place of business."

Game. Set. Match.

**oOo**

Six-thirty rolls around and I find Rosalie sitting in the reception area, flipping through a magazine.

"Ready to motor, Hale? Where are you taking me?" We've already done our weekly dinner at my place. She had requested an old favorite, Roasted Butternut Squash Ravioli in a sage butter sauce. I'd made it for her when we had just graduated college and whenever October rolls around, I inevitably knew the dish would be requested. That's my girl; always consistent. She gets her favorite meals and I apparently get _Penthouse_.

And just as consistently, she would order pizza next week for dinner at her place. Rose can't cook to save her life. Not even Kraft Mac n Cheese. I still remember her burning Top Ramen back in the broke post-grad years before she got her business off the ground. We have dinner once a week, Monday nights. We take turns on whose place we eat at, but Monday nights are a given. No dates, no business, no excuses. We've missed two nights in five years, once for a wake I'd had to attend and once because Jasper had to have an emergency appendectomy. And even then, we'd sat together in the hospital cafeteria together.

"Thai? Chinese? Sushi? You pick and I'll buy." Like she needs to say it. She requested this 'business dinner.'

"How very giving of you. Let's do sushi." I lock the front door and throw my arm around her shoulder. "Should I stop at the convenience store and pick up a _Playgirl_ for you? You know, payback?" I steer us through the streets toward our favorite Japanese restaurant and she leans into me, her hair blowing against my face and lips. If it were anyone else, it might be annoying but it's her, so it's not.

"Nah, I've got the Internet for that, buddy." The wicked smile and gleam in her eyes are back where they belong.

She talks about her day and the event that she has planned for Sunday when I catch a glimpse of our reflection in a store window. Have to admit I'm a bit startled by what I see. We look like the picture perfect happy couple. Rosalie fits perfectly under my arm, looking like she belongs here; our heads bow together and her hand rests on mine, at her shoulder.

I don't know, maybe she does belong there. I mean, really belong, not just in the best friend capacity but as something more. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't entertained the thought a few times but time never seemed to be on our side so I just let the idea slip by the wayside. And she has Peter now.

The Friday night dinner crowd isn't too bad. After giving our name to the hostess, we turn and I place my hand on her back, guiding her to an open spot. We stand next to the seats, leaving them for people with children or for others who need them.

"Hey, so what did you want to talk about?"

"Not now. Let's wait until we sit down." She looks a bit nervous and but gives me a brilliant smile that outshines it. "It's... big."

"Heh. Yeah, it is." I grunt out under my breath and she doesn't come back with the normally snappy remark that I've come to expect. Instead, she looks like she's have a mini seizure, jerking herself back and forth from left to right and making surprised faces. "Uh, Rosalie? What are you doing?"

"Playing peek-a-boo. Stop moving your shoulder, it's what I'm hiding behind." I turn my head slightly (and keep my shoulder stationary, because far be it for me not to listen to Miss Bossypants) to see the little girl sitting on her mom's lap, giggling at Rosalie's antics. She might be brash as the guys in a fraternity house but she's always had a soft spot for kids.

The little girl catches my eye and she does the ol' hide and peek with her hands. I smile back and mimic her actions while Rosalie pokes my cheek. "Stop flirting with my little friend! Bring out the dimples and she's as good as gone."

I turn my attention to her and really turn on the cheesy grin. "It's never worked on you."

She rolls her eyes and I _think _I hear her say "Don't be so sure." Even though I shouldn't, I want to ask her what exactly she means by that, or if she meant anything at all. But at that moment, the hostess calls our name and the chance has come and gone. If I brought it up at the table, it would just be a little bit too late and a lot awkward.

Soon we found ourselves at our table and she launches into her spiel.

"Em, I want Mike Newton. Actually, I need Mike Newton."

Mike Newton is a client. Hell, at one point, he was _the _client. Mike was a light-heavyweight boxer that grew up kicking ass and taking names on the streets of Southie, and we'd been friends since her broke my nose when we were fourteen. In fairness, I had been checking out his sister.

Without him, there might be no MHC, Inc. He'd taken a chance signing with our bare bones start-up because he was loyal to his friends, but we'd made sure that everyone got what they wanted out of the partnership. Question was, what the hell did Rose want with him?

"I'm an agent, not a pimp, Rose. So if you are asking me to set him up with one of your girlfriends, the answer is no." Mike had been named one of Boston Magazine's most eligible bachelors, and ever since, I felt like I was running a dating service.

"Funny, but no. I need him for a charity function I'm organizing. There is a 'date for the night auction' and Mike will bring in serious bank. It's for inner city kids and he grew up in the projects and I just thought..." I put my hand up to stop her from rambling on.

"I get it. I'll see what I can do." Mike will totally agree; giving back to the community is a big thing with him, but I want to let Rose sweat it a little. The waitress comes by to take our drink orders and give us menus that we don't need, because it's always the same thing.

Rose is talking about the event and making her points very emphatically, her hands waving around the way they do when she gets really excited about an idea. I'm listening and responding but really, I'm watching her. Taking her and her enthusiasm in 'cause it's contagious. Being near her is easy, always has been.

"So listen, there's a reason I wanted to have dinner, other than the Mike Newton thing. You know how much I love you. You're my best friend. You're my person. And I know you don't get this, because we're in such different places, but you know how ready I am to move on with my life. I want it all, marriage, babies, white picket fence. I wanted to tell you last night, the second I made up my mind, but then, you know... I royally screwed that up. I need to ask you something, Em."

My mind automatically starts racing at the words _marriage_ and _babies. _ _What the hell is going on here? Is she... is she going to ask me to marry her? Come up with one of those crazy ideas about marrying each other if neither one of us finds someone by the time they are thirty? That shit only happens in movies and we are still a year out from thirty anyway. _

It's not like I've never considered the idea. There is no one in this world that means more to me than Rose, no one. We're already _everything but_, and there are moments, late at night, when I wonder if I'm ignoring what is right in front of my face because I'm afraid, because I'm not ready. But we tried that once, one time, and she shut it down and said that what we had was better than that.

_And she _has _someone. She has..._

"Peter asked me to marry him... and I said yes. You're my best friend in the entire world. Em, will you be my man of honor?"


	43. A Drabble from PWTF

**Penname: **WhoDatWTF

**Title: **An Unexpected Hero

**Rating**: T

Emmett Cullen always did have a flair for the dramatic. He was gung-ho for everything, and some of his ideas tended to get a little far-fetched.

Usually Alice's visions helped to keep him in line, but this time it was a snap decision. After all, he had owned the pajamas for years. There was nothing unusual about Emmett wearing them. Well nothing unusual beyond the general strangeness of a six-foot-five, muscular vampire wearing footie pajamas.

In fact, it wasn't even particularly unusual for him to wear them under his clothes. Neither Alice nor Edward had any idea of just how dramatic Emmett would get that day.

The Cullen siblings were spending a rare day in Seattle while Carlisle and Esme "relaxed" at home. The ever-present cloud cover was blocking the sunlight, and the crisp wintry air would be brisk for any human.

It was a typical day, a day like any other, until a scream pierced the air. "Help!" A woman's voice called. A _young_ woman. "Please help me!"

Rosalie panicked, the woman's cries a faint echo of her own so many years ago. Her cries which were not answered. Edward, Alice, and Jasper grabbed her, knowing that the woman must be helped, but their secret must remain just that. Even with the weather, there were people out and about, and someone was bound to notice their vampire speed.

None of them noticed Emmett, however. At human speed, he jumped into the nearest phone booth. Then at vampire speed, he tore off his clothes and raced toward the woman's cries, leaping on top of a building, dashing across rooftops, and throwing the villain for a hundred feet.

Though many heads turned in awe, no screams sounded, and in fact, several people began to clap! They thought it was a movie filming, or maybe their greatest hero come to life. Faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive, and able to leap tall buildings in a single bound.

That day, Superman came to Seattle.


	44. A Drabble by PurdueLiz

**Penname**: PurdueLiz

**Title**: A Christmas Angel

**Rating**: T

_What child is this, who, laid to rest_

_On Mary's lap, is sleeping?_

_Whom angels greet with anthems sweet,_

_While shepherds watch are keeping?_

A voice which surely belonged to an angel brought me to my knees among the ancient pine and oak trees towering above me. I knew there was a small church nestled into the forest about a half mile from where I knelt transfixed by the beauty of voice that carried on the wind. The rest of the voices joined in, lifting their song to the heavens and I swear I'd never heard anything more beautiful.

I assumed they were rehearsing for the Christmas Eve services coming up in just five days and I was grateful their voices had carried through the forest to where I was running. It was the old carols and hymns my human mama sang to my brothers and sisters to get them to sleep. Not many memories are clear now, but the sound of her voice is ingrained into my memory. I would swear that mama was an angel put on earth.

Because of her singing, I had always preferred the old hymns to the more modern music of the season. It wasn't that I didn't appreciate White Christmas or Silver Bells, but the carols spoke to me in a way the newer ones never would. There was contained within them messages of hope and joy, of comfort and peace that could not be replicated.

I didn't need Edward's gift, or Jasper's, to know the people in the small town of Mountain City, TN, felt none of those this year, despite the beauty of their voices. On every face you could see etched the overwhelming sense of despair they felt. For many in America, the downturn in the economy had hurt. But for the folks in Appalachia, it was crippling. Most could barely afford to keep food on their tables, let alone think about providing a Christmas for their families.

As I listened, only one thing was clear: I needed to do something for the people in this community. These folks might even be my kin; I'd grown up no more than fifteen miles away, in a small cabin nestled in the woods with mama, papa, and eleven brothers and sisters. I was the oldest, and though the memories were sometimes fuzzy, I could still clearly recall how hard times could be in these mountains. Thanks to Alice's mastery of the stock market, I now had the means to make this an easier time for the people in this community.

Running through the forest, I began to formulate a plan in my mind. I called home to let them know I'd be gone for a few days. If Alice had any clue what I was up to, she must have wisely kept it to herself, knowing how important this was to me.

Over the next two days I spoke with every pastor, minister, preacher, and Father at every church within a twenty-mile radius of town. I stopped counting at thirty. At each one I explained what my mission was and at each church I received a lengthy list of those in the congregation who could desperately use some help. When all was said and done, the list of families totaled three-hundred-fifty-six. The average family size was six, though there were many elderly singles who were struggling, as well as several families whose size rivaled my human family. Several McCarty's were listed and I wondered if they might be my relations.

Knoxville was the closest large city that had everything I needed, so that's where I headed to make my purchases. Shopping had never been one of my favorite activities, though Rosie never failed to do whatever it took to get me to accompany her on her trips. This was different though; I knew this was going to make so many people happy, it was going to ease so many burdens, and that alone made this one of the most joyous experiences I'd had in my long life thus far.

It felt like I visited every retailer in the great Knoxville area by the time I was done. I bought trees and lights and decorations and wrapping paper. I bought toys for the children and clothes and winter coats for each member of every family. I bought enough food to last them through summer, when they could begin to harvest their gardens once more. And last on my list, I set up a community food bank and resource center to work in conjunction with the free medical clinic that Carlisle had started. I ensured that the center would never run out of food or supplies.

As I drove a rented eighteen-wheeler back to town, I realized that there was no way I could accomplish all of this on my own, despite vampire speed. My cell phone rang with a chirpy ringtone and I greeted Alice on the other end.

"Hello, sister mine," I greeted her cheerfully.

"Oh, Emmett. You are truly amazing," she sniffed. "But you're right, you are going to need help. I'll have everyone here and ready when you get home."

"Thanks, Alice. Love ya."

"I love you too, Em."

An hour later, I pulled through the circular drive of our current home. Spread across the wraparound porch was my family, each with their mates. Carlisle and Esme. Alice and Jasper. Edward and Bella. Even Ness was here with Jake this year. But the one who held my sight was my beautiful Rose, who stood beaming at me.

Within a couple of hours we had everything unloaded and sorted into individual stacks for each of the families thanks to Alice's master organizational skills. Through that night and the next day, my family wrapped every single present with love and care. A U-Haul truck was delivered for each of us and we loaded them full of Christmas bounty as if they were Santa's sleigh and we were the elves. In a way, that's exactly what we were and it filled my silent heart with joy.

The next night, the churches filled their pews with folks ready to celebrate the birth of their savior, despite not having much else to celebrate. As services progressed and hymns were sung, my family and I each took our trucks and began our separate deliveries.

For two hours as the community worshipped, my family crept quietly into dark houses, setting up fragrant spruce trees and covering them with decorations. We filled the spaces beneath the trees with gaily wrapped presents. We loaded pantries and cellars and refrigerators full to bursting with food.

Then each of us left a card with this simple note inside: _Glory to God in the highest, and on earth, peace, good will toward men._

The End


	45. One Shot by LJ Summers

**Penname**: LJ Summers

**Rating**: T

**Pairing**: Emmett/Rose

**Title**: The Cost of The Knife

**Summary**: Set in A.D. 795/6, Emmett the One-Eyed is a Norse raider – the first to the Island of Rathlin off the northern coast of the land that will one day be known as Ireland. He came away with treasure and a slave named Marcus, but he left his heart behind him, in the keeping of _Steg_... Rose, in our modern tongue, _Ainmfhocal _in her own. He is going to return to her...but it's going to cost him.

_**Disclaimer**__: This is a work of derivative fan fiction. I claim no rights now or in the future to anything in this story. All things TWILIGHT are the intellectual property of Stephenie Meyer and/or her assignees. I am just happy to be allowed to play in her world for a while. _

A/N: With my thanks to **hmonster4** for her wish to see a bit more of my _Ostman_ and to **katmom** for her beta-eye and her take on Rose, I offer you Vikingmett.

* * *

"Lord Emmett. We touch land today?" Marcus inquired in passable Norse. The old man had actually seemed to thrive on the rough sea voyage from the small green island to the fjørd and harbor of Emmett's native shore. His skin was brown and his thin hair was growing out into salt-washed wisps, but his breathing was good and his chest was sturdy. He was a smart _trell_ – slave – too. He was speaking Norse well enough to be understood by any man sailing with Emmett.

The One-Eyed flipped up his weathered leather eye-patch and scratched at the itch that resided where his eye once had. "_Ja_. And you will meet my _Jarl_, Edward of the Four Swords." Well, there were three swords in the Jarl's possession now, since one of them was now wrapped in its own oiled leather cloth on the _skipniu's_ narrow deck.

The color green filled his vision as he took in the distance-view of his homeland. Mountains, still with a hint of snow at their peaks, stretched into the sky while fingers of land stretched into the ocean. It was as if the land of Nordweg were a living, breathing person. A person who was tiring, in Emmett's estimation. He hoped to be able to persuade his mother and brother to come with him next year when he next went to the Green Island where his Rose was.

_Rose_...

Feet braced firmly apart on the deck of the skipniu, Emmett seemed to be as sturdy as the center mast that he wrapped one massive hand around. He could still see his Rose. His Rose. Yes, she was _his_. He remembered clearly the pride in her fjørd-blue eyes. The determination to be brave even when that dog, Úlfr, had her in his filthy hands. Her spirit was captivating – she was truly touched by the gods. The way she had threatened Emmett with the knife he had given her for her own protection yet had placed it deliberately behind her back when she was ready...

_And those lips...her kiss..._

Yes, he would return to her. Surely Jarl Edward would not object to him taking Rose as a wife.

**- o - o - **

"Jarl Edward of the Swords," Emmett stated in introduction. His trell bowed appropriately. "Jarl, this is Marcus. He is learning good Norse and will be able to give us much information on where the wealth will lie on the Green Island."

Edward settled himself on the bench-bed at the rear of his longhouse, back firm, seeming to still be standing proudly though he was supposedly more at ease. At the Jarl's nod, Emmett settled himself – with some creaking of wood – onto the bench-bed at a perfect squared angle to his lord. The fire was not overpowering, but it gave off a homey light into the long, rectangular dwelling. Marcus, as a new trell, did not leave the building but stood at the far end of it, leaning against the outer wall. Furs were spread over a few of the seven bench-beds. These were the beds of the Jarl's sons and daughter. His wife had died three years past and Edward had not taken to himself a new wife.

He had, though, a leman to see to his manly needs and it was that female that came in after Emmett settled himself. "My lord," the girl said, her eyes cast down as was proper. "Is there anything I can do for you or your guest?"

Edward extended his hand to the serving girl. "Just some mead, Rina. Thank you."

The blond girl kissed Edward's offered hand before doing as she had been bidden. Edward smiled fondly at her as she left the longhouse. "Now that you're home for the winter, Emmett, you should consider taking a leman yourself. To keep you warm at night."

"Actually, my lord, I did come to see you about my...future...in that regard."

Edward grinned. "Good! Did you bring back more than the translator, then?" The Jarl's ruddy hair glinted as tossed back half a mug of the mead in a go. "You should have brought her. Rina could have instructed her as to her role among us. It's good for the females to have companionship during the winter."

Feeling his cheeks heat, Emmett all but inhaled his own warm, fermented honey beverage before setting the empty mug to his right on the wood of the bed. He wondered how best to say this. "I met a girl on the Green Island." Best to start with the basics.

The problem he was going to have, Emmett had concluded during the long sea voyage from the Island to his home harbor, was that he wanted to leave Nordweg entirely and Jarl Edward might not approve. And without his approval, Emmett could possibly forfeit the services of a navigator upon his return to his Rose. And he would have to give up his prized sword at Edward's pleasure. There was also a distinct possibility that he would be asked to pay for the loss of the another fighting man – his brother Eysteinn would be missed as well the following summer.

"A girl? What is her name?"

"Steg," Emmett replied at once, grinning at his memories of how he had learned her rightful name.

"A rose, is she? Beautiful?" Edward inquired, leaning forward in interest.

Caution flared in Emmett's chest. "A golden rose, my lord. Beautiful doesn't begin to tell the tale."

"Well, where is she? I would see her!" Another grin as Edward bounced with apparent youthfulness to his feet. "Perhaps, if she were very beautiful, we could trade, eh?"

"No!" Emmett leapt to his own feet, hands clenched in fists before he could calm himself. "No, she's mine. I want to take her to wife, Lord Edward."

"To wife?" Edward stared at him, bewildered. Then, he began to pace halfway around the fire circle and back to his bench-bed. "Emmett. You should marry, yes, but marry one of your own kind. One of us. Not a foreigner. What kind of sons would she give you? She might not last a winter! Our women are bred for this land."

It was Emmett's turn to be confused. "Our women die all too often, Lord Edward. New blood is good blood."

Edward seemed to think on this, holding his hands over the fire though it wasn't really cold. "Well, bring her here. I'd like to meet her."

**- o - o - **

At _midvinterblót_ – the days-long celebration in the dead days of winter that involved drinking and storytelling as well as the sharing of craftsmanship – Emmett was not blind to the young women who smiled at him. Young women of good families and fine dowries. He had been approached by more than one father and an elder brother or two as well.

"She'd make you a fine wife and we know you're a man in good standing, with property and with the Jarl," Emmett had been assured. Frequently.

His brother had likewise been courted on behalf of a young lady or two. He was rather more receptive. Emmett supposed that having his brother have a wife to bring with the family as they relocated to the Green Island would be a good thing.

Jarl Edward caught Emmett's eye and beckoned to him with a lift of his rock-hard jaw. Maneuvering his way through the crowd of people in the Jarl's longhouse was not too difficult for a man of the One-Eyed's size and reputation.

"One-Eye," Sigurd called just before Emmett attained a conversational point with Jarl Edward, "is it true you're looking for a wife? Because my wife's cousin is from Balestrand and she'd be a fine bride for you. She will be here before we leave on the summer raids. You could meet her."

Emmett smiled a little. "I thank you for the compliment, Sigurd. I have a bride in mind, though, and am hoping to wed her this coming summer." His golden rose. He paused for a moment to refresh his memory and to feed Sigurd's apparent curiosity. "She's got hair the color of sunshine and eyes like a spring melt in the fjørd. A figure a man would sail far to find again and spirit like none I've ever seen, Sig. She's the greatest treasure I've ever seen and I must have her as my wife."

Sig might have been drooling, but Emmett wiped the smile off his face when he saw the disapproval in their lord's. "Emmett."

"My lord." Tension crackled between the men, both of them imposing in their own ways. The Jarl carried the weight of tested authority, the One-Eyed emanated battle-readiness in his shoulders and stance. They faced each other as conversations died down around them. Only a baby cried in the arms of its mother, near the fire where it was warmest.

"You know I do not approve. It would be wisest to marry among our own people. Keep whomever you wish as a leman – every man needs variety – but you would do well to heed me."

Emmett did not wish to have another confrontation in the midst of a celebration, nor with twenty or more witnesses, so he bowed briefly. "It is a matter that will keep," he said with some diplomacy. "After all, a man does not get wed in midwinter."

Apparently taking this as capitulation, the Jarl smiled briefly. "No, indeed."

**- o - o - **

"Emmett," Eysteinn began as they were testing the skipniu's decking for soundness at the first true warming of the Spring, "you can't be serious. We can't just leave our homes and lands and start over again so far away! It's not like it's inland or near a new harbor or even Halvard's land in Balestrand, that Sigurd mentioned last month. Your restlessness, brother, is being gossiped about."

Emmett felt his muscles tensing and flexed his fingers to dispel his inner need to lash out. It wasn't his brother he was truly angry with – though Eysteinn did frustrate him to no end with his closed-mindedness regarding the Green Island. "My restlessness, as you call it, is only my wish to return to my Steg. I promised her."

Eysteinn gaped, the earnestness of the proposition finally sinking in to him. "You _betrothed_ yourself to her? Why didn't you say so? The Jarl could not object if you have done so."

After applying stress to one of the questionable-looking boards, Emmett used some of his irritation to break it. "We need to replace this one. And I don't know if she understood me," he admitted to his brother. "But I'm going back to her. And I want to stay there. And I want you and our mother to join me. The land is good and healthy and young. We could be an outpost, a safe harbor for the Jarl for future forays. It would be a wise move," Emmett concluded, pushing himself to his feet and meeting his brother's gaze.

Eysteinn lacked Emmett's overpowering build, but his sense of what was right was just as strong. "Have you told it like that to Jarl Edward? Even _I_ can see the sense in it and _he_ is not an unreasonable man."

"He likes the idea, but he wants me to marry Sig's cousin, if none of our girls will do. And then he wants me to stay in his service. To train the men. Odin's claimed me for his own and it would be, Lord Edward says, folly for me to cast the god's favor away."

Emmett finished his answer while looking out over the harbor, where other men sought to repair their own skipniu for the good of all. The small waves caressed the hull of the longboats, as if reassuring the men inside them that all would be well in the coming summer. If he closed his eyes, he could feel his golden rose's fingertips in the touch of the wind's edges. Her voice in the cool breeze. Her clear eyes in the fjørd.

Eysteinn slapped his brother's broad back. "Sorry, my brother, but Lord Edward has a point."

Emmett half-turned to angle a look at Eysteinn from his one eye. "He does, but Odin's power is not limited to Nordweg."

**- o - o - **

"Úlfr! Call when you see land," Emmett directed as he strapped on his sword and checked the fastenings on his boiled leather armor. The familiar actions steadied his nerves. He had been learning the language of the Islanders. _Gaeilge_, Marcus had called it.

Marcus, the old fellow, was no longer his trell and Emmett had left him at home with his mother. The old man had become strangely attached to Systa, Emmett's mother's personal maid. Systa – a woman of middle years and no family – had also learned Gaeilge, as Marcus taught it over the long, lagging winter. It was a language filled with liquid syllables and strange sounding combinations, but Emmett had a powerful wish to learn. Systa had learned with the idea of speaking with Marcus in his own language.

Not being a fool, he had observed the way the wind was blowing and had released Marcus into his mother's service. He fully expected to hear word that the two trells were married by the end of summer.

Just now, though, the one-eyed warrior was thinking of a wedding of his own. It was foolish, in the rational light of day.

"Consider, One-Eye," Jarl Edward had said at last, shortly before he took command of one of the other skipniu that was setting out from Nordweg. "Your Steg might truly be all that you think she is. But she is a foreigner and has been alone all year. And you, frankly, invaded her island and stole treasure from her home, right? You have benefited greatly from pillaging her people. What makes you think she'll be waiting for you. A kiss? A knife? Be sensible, Emmett."

The doubts assailed his heart as Úlfr called, "Land! The island is visible, One-Eye."

Blowing out a breath, Emmett called to his mind all that he had learned of the language Marcus had taught him. What if all the words were lies? What if the speech he had carefully planned was in fact a series of grave insults? What if Steg had wed and had a babe at her breast?

_What if she had died? _

_Odin_, he prayed, his hand over the patch that covered his empty eye socket. _Odin, if you hear me, if you haven't turned my life over to the Trickster, I hope you have saved my Steg for me. My beautiful golden rose. I have worked hard to be worthy of her. I have trained your people, god of my lost eye. I have served my lord and made sure my mother was well provided for. All those you have entrusted to my care are established in strength. Odin, I have sacrificed with my eye and my own life. I pray she is there. I pray she remembers me and that her eyes will shine for me as they do in my memory. There is nothing I will not give for her if she is given to me. Nothing._

He nodded as he finished his prayer and shook his melancholy off. He was here to establish a base for Jarl Edward, who was on the skipniu immediately to Emmett's right. He would do that. He was prepared to fight any reinforcements the robed men of this island might have collected against him.

Marcus had warned him that the men of the stone buildings were there to worship a god of their own. A man-god who had sacrificed his son for humans. Sounded weak to Emmett, but Marcus said they knew how to fight.

Marcus had said a great deal, once they were able to talk to each other. Getting the man to shut his mouth had been the hard part.

The wind was cold, blowing off the land. Colder than the water as the skipniu were guided in to the rocky shore. "Furl the sails," Emmett directed. "We don't want to go back out there. Oars!"

In a heartbeat, the men had dropped their weapons and bent their backs to the task of rowing. It wouldn't overly tire them – it was a short distance and it was necessary.

The oars cut roughly through the shallows. Waves pushed at the longships as if to repel them from the land, but Emmett persevered. His focus was not only on his own ship but also on the nearest ones to him, making sure that his men didn't get oars tangled up with those of another craft. Such disasters had happened, and though the warriors did put in some training in this work, it wasn't their primary concern.

"Emmett!" Rough laughter rolled low to his ear. "Looks like all your muttering has done you some good, anyway."

Emmett frowned at Úlfr and his leering face before following the navigator's pointed fingers.

"Steg! Ann-ehmuhkull!" he breathed, in his language and hers. His Rose was there on the shore, almost exactly where he had left her the summer before. Her hair was a pale gold veil that swirled about her body. She was wearing a cloak that covered her, hiding the perfection of her body from all eyes. Good. He knew what she felt like pressed against him and could draw his own conclusions...

He grinned. His men chuckled about him, the jests whispered but not overly so. "Secure the skipniu," he ordered. "I'm going ashore."

Never taking his eyes from his golden goddess of the dawn, he braced his arm on the rim of the hull and leapt over it to land calf-deep in the water. He slogged through the water, just as he had the year before. But this time, he gave no thought to the smell of the sea water or the green hue of the grass just beyond the sand-surrounded rocks. This season, there was only his Island Rose.

He was almost in reach of her when her hand came out from her cloak...and she was wielding the knife. The knife Emmett had given her from Úlfr's own sheath. He hesitated only a breath as she held it up to his eye level before, with a light in her own eye, she slipped the knife behind her.

Emmett nodded, sure that Odin had smiled upon him. Here she was, his Steg, his Ann-ehmuhkull, as entrancing as she had been in every sleeping dream and every waking memory. He took a deep breath and said what he had come to say.

"Rose, my island woman," he began in her tongue, in Gaeilge, "I have come back, as I promised you." Surprise flared in her crystal blue gaze and his smile broadened. "And you have waited, just as I hoped."

He was prepared to take her gently into his arms, to show how much he treasured her – insofar as he could in front of his men and Jarl Edward, whose skipniu was now scraping the sand and being secured for landfall. Instead, Rose surprised him, throwing herself at him, knife and all, her arms around his neck and her laughter in his ears. Her joy was such a relief to him, such an amazing gift, that Emmett the One-Eyed laughed with her, laughed with such force as he could not remember having felt since attaining manhood.

Swinging her around in a circle, he heard but ignored the jeers and laughter of his men, just as he caught sight of the narrowed gaze of the Jarl. "Emmett!" she breathed against him. He needed no further invitation to press his lips to hers.

And what a kiss she gave him. Her lips were warm, her breath sweet and smelling of mint. Her hands in his hair as they stood all but motionless as the cool air swirled around them and the skipniu in their group all made landfall to empty themselves on the shore.

He held her tightly against him, feeling her heart pound as did his own. This was his woman. The one he would spend the rest of his days and nights with. The woman who claimed him, body and spirit. "Rose," he breathed. "I love you."

"You speak Gaeilge," she murmured, staring into his eyes.

He laughed. "Marcus taught me."

"Where is he? I have missed him."

"He is well, back in Nordweg."

"Emmett!"

It was not her rich voice that said his name that time – it was his lord. Grimacing, Emmett shook his head sharply and tried to smile a little. Arm firmly around Rose, he turned.

"Jarl Edward, this is my Rose," he stated in Norse. "Rose?" he continued in Gaeilge, "this is Lord Edward Karlsson."

Rose bent her knee before Lord Edward but Emmett never let his hand slip from her back. It seemed that it was only then that Rose took in the sheer number of men that had arrived. She lifted worried eyes up to Emmett. "What is happening? My people..."

Lord Edward drew himself up and looked as imposing with his bronze thatch of hair as any man had any right to look. "Emmett, translate if you would."

"Yes, my lord."

"I promise on my honor not to harm you or anyone you claim here on this small isle, but we are not going to take such care elsewhere. If you wish to be safe, stay close to my man Emmett. Do not argue with my men and instruct the others who are here with you to cooperate."

Rose stiffened under Emmett's arm, watching Jarl Edward's face as he spoke. She was wise enough not to look away and Emmett's respect for her grew twice over. "I will tell them," she said, her words short and harsh without any of the warmth she had shown to Emmett.

Lord Edward nodded. "Good. Now, Emmett. Don't translate this. I will let you stay here as a go-between. You will work for me, here, and make my will known that this is to be a permanent harbor for us, to give us a base from which to come and go in the future. Enjoy your Rose," he said more warmly with a fond smile at the blond goddess under Emmett's arm. "Enjoy her and see if you can persuade her to come as a free woman back home with you. If not, take her as a leman and treat her as you will."

"I will not," Emmett ground out. "I will not take her as leman. She will be my wife."

"Enjoy her for the summer," the Jarl repeated. And with another hard look, he turned away, shouting orders to his own crew.

"Rose..." Emmett murmured, postponing his tasks for as long as he could in the interests of securing the one thing that really mattered. "_An boas-he too may_?"

"Marry you? Emmett? Really?"

"_Ja_. I want you with me. Always."

"_Isea_!" she breathed. _Yes_.

**- o - o - **

The weather was cooler than it had been, and Emmett noticed. He still brushed sweat from under the eyepatch he wore to cover Odin's claim on him, but he was not conflicted any longer. While Jarl Edward had raided the larger body of the Green Island – Éire, he had learned it was called – Emmett had wed Rose and the two of them lived in the largest building on the island of Rathlin. It was a place where the monks worshiped their Man-God, but there were rooms in it for people to live, and that's where Emmett lived with his new wife.

His new wife who was going to give him a son. He was sure of it.

"What are you doing with your sword?" Rose asked after washing her face. She had been sick again that morning. Emmett was not a fool; he knew what that meant.

He grinned at her. "Polishing it."

She still looked like a goddess to him when she gazed in that manner down her perfect nose. "Oh? I daresay we polished your sword in fine fashion last night, husband."

His laugh burst forth with joy and mirth. "Indeed we did! But it is not something I'd prepare to share with Jarl Edward."

Rose's playful moment was over and her gaze briefly toured the high-ceilinged chamber as if surveying the table and benches, wide stone hearth and wooden altar. "He is returning today."

"Yes. And I will have to tell him."

She did not doubt him, not for a moment. Emmett's pride in her was filled anew with each day. "What will he do?" Rose did not move, but spoke with dignity and calm acceptance. "He won't – hurt you, will he?" Her lips trembled for a moment.

Emmett hastened to reassure her. Setting aside his sword, he pushed off the stool he had been sitting on – one built just for his size – to embrace his wife. "No. It's not his way. But he will find some way to...punish me." He held her tightly, as if to prevent the gods or the Jarl from taking her away.

The morning mists had burned away under the distant disc of the sun when Lord Edward's skipniu came in to moor itself at the harbor Emmett had constructed over the summer. Deciding it was best not to delay, Emmett met the Jarl on the beach.

"Are you ready to depart?" Edward called, apparently not willing to postpone any discussion, either. "You may bring her along, remember."

Without Rose by his side, Emmett didn't feel nearly so defensive. He just wanted this to be over; the low-level dread of disappointing the Jarl had festered all summer. "She is my wife," he told Lord Edward. No need to hide it; he was proud of this. "And I will stay here as your harbormaster, if you want me to serve you in that way."

The Jarl's nostrils flared, his jaw tightened and his eyebrows furrowed the skin over his sharp nose. "You know what I have asked of you."

"I do. I am not less your man because I want to live here, where the soil is more ready to grow crops. I am just wanting to bring up my sons in a place with bounty, not want."

The Jarl was not known to be a man of violent temper; he angered but he was ever a master of his emotions – they did not master him. It was, in part, what made him an effective leader of strong men. He glared mightily however, before pushing by Emmett and crunching over the wet sand and pebbles to the more firm grass. "You are not my trell, Emmett Bjørnson, and I cannot compel you to anything." A light of humor glowed briefly in the Jarl's green eyes. "You're as strong as the bear of your father's name. I couldn't make you do anything, even if I wished to." He looked away, then, crossing his arms and scanning the wall that surrounded the cluster of buildings Emmett and Rose lived in, with the monks of Rathlin. "I can see you've made yourself a home, here. I won't make you leave it. But you are no longer my man, Emmett. I will have my sword again, to give to someone who will do as I bid them."

The demand was made quietly, with the quiet air of an expectation met. Emmett silently slid the gift-sword from its sheath and handed it, hilt-first, to Edward, who was no longer his lord or leader. "I understand. I can fight with an axe and spear."

"I know it. I'd not leave you defenseless."

Emmett stood next to Edward, his back straight if feeling strange without the weight of the sword upon it. "You're a fair man." Still, a sense of loss swirled around him and a sudden shaft of pain – like a ghost of his old wounding – shot through where his eye used to be.

_Odin_... Reminding him of his sacrifice. Emmett stiffened against the momentary jolt of supernatural fear that chilled his skin and curled his hands into fists.

"Emmett?" Rose's voice floated to him over the wet expanse of grass and Emmett nodded. "Are you and the Jarl out here?"

"Here we are, wife!" Emmett called, relaxing as he watched her approach. Edward, next to him, shook his head slowly but he was smiling.

When the Rose of Rathlin reached them, the hilt of her knife visible from the sheath she wore around her hip over her red gown, Edward's face expressed his rueful acceptance of the new situation. "You have a fine knife," he said. His words were for the woman, but his look was for the man. "I am sure it was worth what you paid for it." The Jarl did not know that Emmett had taken that knife from an unconscious navigator who had assaulted Rose the year before, but that wasn't the point of Edward's observation.

Emmett nodded his tacit comprehension of the unspoken message. The knife was fine indeed, but it was Steg, Ann-ehmuhkull, his Rose who was the treasure here. "No cost is too high," he said in answer.

Rose, her intuition sharp as ever, nodded, meeting Edward's steady gaze with her own. "I have a farewell meal prepared, Lord Edward," she said in halting Norse.

"Thank you."

**- o - o - **

_When Jarl Edward left, he took Emmett's sword with him, but he left his belt-knife behind. It was not in compensation, but in appreciation. Emmett would later give the knife to his firstborn son._

**The End**

**Glossary:**

_An bpósfaidh tú mé - An boas-he too may. _- Will you marry me.

Ja - Yes

leman - A slave whose primary purpose is the sexual gratification of her owner. A leman was generally well-regarded and pampered, for a slave.

skipniu - longship

trell - slave


	46. A Drabble by LJ Summers

**Penname**: LJ Summers

**Rating**: K

**Title**: What the Squirrel Saw, a drabble

He knelt, eyes burning, over the weathered stone. "I heard about what happened," he whispered. "I never meant for it to be that way."

Wind skirled around his feet, kicking up leaves and a small twig that tapped his businessman's loafer. "Yeah, I know," he said with half a laugh. "You'd want more style, babe, but this is what I got." He sighed and it sounded as if the wind sighed in echo. "Today, this is it," he told the wind and the stone, the stone with the familiar shape in its usual place. "But at least my pleats are pressed."

A squirrel chittered at him and he chuckled. "No, I'm not insane, little one. Just lonely."

The small creature flared its tail as if in warning before dashing away to a low-branched pine. Emmett knelt in the dirt and caressed the rectangular piece of granite with its worn carvings. "Rosalie McCarty, Beloved of My Soul." He couldn't cry, but he wanted to – more than he wanted to follow her. "I'm still here. It's been a hundred years, and I'm still here."

The wind grew stronger and, though he was made of something like granite himself, he responded by moving away from the gravestone. "I know. I've got things to do. And you're happy, now. That's all that keeps me going. But I'll never stop loving you and I'll find you. Someday."

He withdrew a chrome-treated socket wrench from the latest BMW series and left it as a token. Because it would last longer than a rose. Longer than his Rose.

Only the squirrel saw him kiss the granite memorial, choke on a sob, and walk away.


	47. One Shot by SammieLynnsMom

**Title: The Missing Link**

**Penname: SammieLynnsMom**

**Fanfiction Url: http:/www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/u/1966495/**

**Pairing: Emmett & Rosalie**

**Summary: When you think you've found what you were looking for, sometimes you find something you never realized you actually needed. This is the story of a girl, who finds the boy she never knew she needed.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. If femmslash & threesomes bother you, please don't read. The topic of sexual assault is addressed, there is no detail or elaboration, but it's there so it deserved it's own warning. **

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~PROLOGUE*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* **

As the door bell echoed through the house I took a seat in my chair facing the bed. It was here I would sit once a month while my girlfriend got her fill of the needs she realized she could not bury. Watching was a thrill, but I secretly waited for the nod signaling that it was my turn to join.

"I hate running late," Rosalie freaked as she headed for the door. Tonight she was dressed in a red baby doll piece. Lace wrapped around her breasts giving me just enough of a view to want more, while material splayed out over her body hitting right under her ass with a matching thong and black heels to round out her look.

I made a mental note to have her wear it again later, but tonight I knew I would not be unwrapping this present.

I could hear Rosalie welcoming her in, their voices grew louder as they neared the bedroom. The room was already dimmed with a few scented candles in the far corner. The bed had been stripped down to a simple sheet as blankets just get in the way.

Rosalie always started with kissing, she didn't have the patience for idle talk so when the door busted open causing both women to stumble through, I was not surprised. Rosalie's lips were secured to hers as she guided her to the bed.

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*18 MONTHS EARLIER~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**

"I can't thank you enough," I praised. I had recently moved back to Seattle for work, but was currently homeless. I had known Edward since high school, so as soon as I knew I'd be coming back he quickly opened up his spare bedroom. Edward and his wife, Bella, had settled down in Seattle shortly after college.

Our group of friends in high school consisted of Edward, Bella, Rosalie, Alice, Jasper, and me. I was the fourth to settle down and make Seattle my home, after spending four years traveling as an IT Tech teaching different businesses about their newest company software. Edward and Bella never left. Edward took a job at Seattle's Children's Hospital straight out of college and Bella became a freelance writer. Rosalie would be the third person who beat me back to Seattle. She left and went off to Hollywood. She wanted to be an actress, but came back only six months later without much of an explanation as to why. Alice and Jasper rounded out our group, but the last I had heard, they were still expanding on a ranch somewhere in Texas.

"Don't mention it. You'll pretty much have this wing of the house to yourself, and the kitchen is always open. Bella is home most of the time while I'm constantly in and out, so if you need anything just ask," Edward explained while he gave me a tour of the house.

"Got it," I nodded while looking around the room to see what I needed to add. My apartment in New York City was currently being packed up and shipped over at the expense of the company. I planned on settling in for a week or so before I got out and began house hunting. I still hadn't decided if I actually wanted a house or an apartment, but I would find something.

"What are your plans for the week?" Edward asked casually. This was my first time back in nearly a year and I wanted to get together and do a guys night. Edward mentioned being close with a few of the guys he worked with so I figured I could get to know them to. I was well liked in New York and everywhere else I travelled, so making friends in Seattle probably wouldn't be an issue.

"Just settling in today and tomorrow. I need to shop for a few things. I'll be back in the office on Wednesday and Thursday - I have an overnight meeting with some people from China. I probably won't be back until early morning, sleep Friday, get out over the weekend and start contacting realtor's on Monday." I rattled off the first thing that came to my mind, all the while Edward kept nodding.

As we descended down the stairs Bella appeared to tell us dinner would be ready in about an hour and she had invited Rosalie over. I was still exhausted from flying non-stop today, but if she was offering food I wasn't going to turn her down.

"Emmett!" I heard Rosalie's voice as she strode through the door. She was stunning as always, long blond hair flowing past her shoulders, wearing a green dress that accentuated her long legs. As I stood up from the couch where I had been overlooking paperwork I adjusted myself hoping that she wouldn't notice the reaction she got from me. I heard Edward snicker beside me. He had not missed said reaction.

I gave Rosalie a light hug, while positioning my hips away from hers. In high school, Rosalie was always gorgeous, but unattainable. I wasn't shy and had plenty of attention from girls, but Rosalie always seemed indifferent. Had we not been in the same group of friends, I would have tried harder, but I didn't want to disrupt the circle of friends.

"How have you been?" I asked as we all walked towards the dining room where Bella had laid out a table full of food. She knew hash-brown casserole was my favorite, so she made that with ham, green beans, and biscuits. It had been so long since I'd had a home cooked meal that I would have devour the entire table if they'd let me.

"Good, good. Busy with work," Rosalie replied nonchalantly.

"Where are you working now?" I asked.

Rosalie explained she got into modeling when she got back from California, mainly print ads, but it kept her busy and paid the bills. First thing I noticed was that she wasn't wearing a ring, so I knew she wasn't married. I wandered off in space wondering if she had a boyfriend, and if she did how long it would take me to get rid of him.

The evening continued on with more chatting about life and what we were all doing. When Bella mentioned she had dessert waiting for us, Rosalie popped up to help her with it. Edward excused himself to the bathroom and I realized my beer was almost gone.

I was only a few steps away from entering the kitchen when I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. No matter how many times I blinked or rubbed my hands over my face I saw the same thing.

_Rosalie and Bella exchanging a passionate kiss... with tongue!_

When I realized that I truly was seeing what I thought I was seeing I decided a beer wasn't that important. I tip toed back to the table mere seconds before Edward reappeared. Part of my brain was screaming at me to tell him, while the other half told me to shut the hell up and stop thinking about it.

"_Hey Edward? I just thought you should know your wife is making out with her best-friend and I now have the worst raging dick ever."_

As if that conversation would go over well.

Edward started talking to me about sports and tickets he had to a Celtics game, which I readily agreed to go to. The girls walked in giggling, pie and plates in hand.

"What's so funny?" Edward asked once Bella had taken her seat next to him.

"Oh nothing, Rosalie was just telling me about her latest shopping trip. She got some new clothes she's really excited to show me."

For a second I thought I saw Edward smirk and Rosalie turn a bit red, but when I blinked all had returned to normal.

I feigned exhaustion shortly after pie was served and walked up the stairs to the guestroom I'd be staying in.

As I started to drift off to sleep, I realized something strange was taking place in this house and I was about to figure out what it was.

Every day felt like it was getting shorter and shorter. I settled into the guest room at Edward's house, was given a date when my household goods would arrive from New York, met my new co-workers, and began setting up my office. Before I knew it, it was Thursday.

I slept most of the morning away knowing it would be a long night. Our company was currently working a deal with a company in Hong Kong that was interested in using our software. We were due to be on a conference call late into the night because of the time change, but when I arrived to the office I was told it was re-scheduled. One of the company CEO's in Hong Kong had taken ill and instead of working a deal without him, they decided it would be best to postpone.

I stayed in the office until around ten that night, getting idle paperwork done that could have waited, but I wouldn't be coming back in again until Monday, so I wanted it done.

I nodded my head at James, our night security guard, on the way to my car. I told Edward and Bella that I would be gone all night, so I planned on just sneaking up into my room to continue googling local houses and condos currently on the market.

When I pulled up into the driveway I noticed Rosalie's red BMW parked outside the garage. I hadn't seen Rosalie since the night I swore I saw her kissing Bella, nor had anyone mentioned her. When I asked Bella more about Rosalie and why she moved back from Hollywood I was brushed off.

After parking and walking up to the door, the noises coming from inside were enough to stop me in my tracks. I took a deep breathe and focused, I knew I was tired, but after listening for thirty seconds I knew I wasn't dreaming. I heard moaning.

Going through the front door was not an option.

Going through the back door was also not an option.

The room I was staying in was on the second floor with the window open. I spied the old oak tree and sighed.

I felt like a teenager again as I climbed up the tree, effectively ruining the pair of slacks I had been wearing. I crept out of the room and to the top of the stairs.

Edward's couch was now pulled out to make a full sized bed. The green sheet was barely noticeable compared to the two women having sex on top of it.

_Rosalie was currently eating Bella's pussy. _

_Rosalie was currently sleeping with my best-friend's wife. _

_Rosalie and Bella?_

The kiss I had ignored, but how could I ignore this? My mind went a mile a minute as I thought up all the ways to tell my best friend his wife was fucking someone else, and not just someone else, but Rosalie.

"_Hey Edward, you'd never believe me, but I swear I watched your wife getting off with Rosalie. Fun, huh?"_

"_Um Edward, I know you and Bella have been together for a long time, but I think she's lesbian?"_

"_So Edward..."_

That was not working.

Both women were completely nude and from my area of the stairs, I could see their bodies gleaming with a mix of arousal and sweat. When Rosalie finished orally pleasing Bella, she moved to start touching her. My dick was already hard, but it was Bella's eyes that were holding my attention. Then Rosalie's face came into view and it was her eyes.

They looked like they were in love?

I had seem my fair share of pornos and had my fair share of hook-ups, but this was different. The way they touched, the way they looked, it was more than just a fuck.

Bella looked up and towards my direction, which caused me to hop back into the shadow the hallway was providing me. At first I was scared she has seen me but then I realized she was nodding at something or someone.

When Edward came into view I had given up on all ideas of thoughts and reasoning. He was equally naked and when I ducked my head out, I noticed a chair that sat out of my range of vision.

_Had he been sitting, watching this the entire time? _

I knew it was wrong to watch, but this was like a train wreck. You didn't want to watch, but you couldn't look away.

As Edward stalked to the bed I noticed two drastic changes. First, Bella started to beam. It was obvious this was not the first they were doing this and she didn't appear to be jealous. Second, Rosalie's face fell a bit. Even when Edward walked straight up to her and began to kiss her, the love I had seen in her eyes for Bella was gone. Both Edward and Bella seemed oblivious to this change.

Edward's body moved over Rosalie's as she spread her legs for him. Bella laid up next to her and took a nipple in her mouth. Both Edward and Bella worked to please Rosalie, but it all seemed fake to me. The moans and groans were a stark difference from the ones she was giving when it was just Bella.

It was over shortly thereafter, Edward left first and went into the master bedroom on the first floor. Bella embraced Rosalie in a passionate kiss before leaving her on the bed and joining her husband. Their bedroom wall began to knock within minutes and Rosalie collapsed onto the mattress in tears.

My heart told me to run and comfort her, but my brain told me to root myself in place. Rose stayed on the couch for a few minutes before dressing and leaving out the front door. When I heard her car start and back out of the driveway I started to breathe again. I then realized I would have to make up a really good excuse since she would have seen my car in the driveway. She was really upset though, so maybe she would miss it?

When I got back into my room and tried settling into bed, I couldn't sleep. I had no idea what type of relationship was going on between Edward, Bella, and Rosalie, but the crushed look on Rosalie's face when Edward and Bella left her was enough to keep me awake.

I didn't know what I was going to do, but I knew I had to do something.

When I woke up Friday morning I was exhausted, not just physically, but also mentally. I continued to wrack my brain through the night with theories that would make what I saw make sense. Nothing added up though.

First, if Bella was a lesbian then was Edward a cover? I'd seen their relationship grow since we were in high school and there was nothing fake about it. So it couldn't be that.

Then, Rosalie...the same Rosalie who had slept with her fair share of guys in high school? Did she turn butch on me? She was obviously in love with Bella, but when did that happen?

And Edward, man he seemed to have the best seat in the house. It had to be about the sex...it just had to be. Edward is possessive and territorial, always has been. There is no way he would allow that to happen without getting something.

I eventually made it out of my room around eleven with no one in sight. The living room was picture perfect as it was the first day I arrived. Even the decorative pillows looked untouched. For a moment I thought I had been dreaming, but my pants that were torn to shreds by an oak tree were definitely real.

Edward walked through the door around the time I was making myself a sandwich. He seemed cool and calm, same demeanour as always. Not that I expected him to act differently, since he was obviously oblivious to my knowledge, but I didn't think I'd act the same if I had just had two women in bed the night before.

"Hey man, how did your meeting go?" Edward questioned. I tensed up, scared that I would let out enough to blow my cover.

"Annoying. They want too much for not enough, we'll be doing part two this coming Thursday." I lied. Why did I lie? Because I had no idea how often this happened, so if Edward thought I'd be gone again, then maybe I could catch it again. Not that I knew why I wanted to watch again.

"That sucks, man. Tonight I was thinking about going out to a bar with a few work buddies, you in?"

"Sure, sure," I nodded as I took a bite of what I'd just made.

"Cool, we'll hook up around nine, then head out. Sound good?"

When I heard the term 'hook up' I choked. Edward seemed concerned, but I brushed it off. Then I nodded at him to tell him "hooking up at nine" was fine with me.

I quickly escaped to my room and tried to get my head level. At the very least, I knew I couldn't get caught yet. I needed to figure out all the details before I confronted Rosalie.

The club was full of energy when we arrived. Edward immediately spotted his friends in the corner booth by the bar. There were already two pitchers of beer on the table with a row of glasses and the two dudes sitting down looked decent.

"Hey, I'm Mike; Oncology." He put his hand out after I sat. I shook it.

"I'm Tyler; Pediatrics." Again another hand shake.

"Hey, I'm Emmett, um..IT guy?" It was more of a question because I didn't really care who worked where. It got a few laughs and I poured myself a beer. And then another. And another.

I wouldn't say Edward was dull and boring, but his friends were. I felt like the jock sitting at the chess team's table in high school. All they did was talk patients, blood counts, and other weird doctor shit I didn't understand.

I pretended to listen as I scanned the bar. All I needed was one girl to jump out at me and I'd have my excuse to drop these guys.

The time kept ticking away and I was about to just pick a random girl when I saw her. Red mini, black heels, long blond hair with long legs to match. Rosalie.

"I want her," I heard Tyler say as he motioned towards Rosalie. First, he didn't stand a chance, and second, I hadn't missed the wedding ring he was trying to secretly remove.

"No dude, she's mine," I started before getting up and walking straight to her.

I could hear Tyler say something, but it fell on deaf ears. I saw who I wanted and I would hunt her down if I needed to.

Sneaking up on Rosalie was easy. Her attention was on the bartender who was currently fixing her a drink. Her scent hit me even among the standard sweat and booze reek of the club. All I wanted to do was get her out of there for my own pleasure, but I knew I couldn't do that.

"Hey, gorgeous," I whispered into her ear from behind.

Rosalie swung around with her wrist up as if she was going to deck me. Her face was scary for a second and then I watched her visibly relax.

"Emmett? What are you doing here?" she immediately asked after grabbing her Cosmopolitan.

"Edward," was all I said and she nodded.

"Do you wanna get out of here?" I half whispered, half yelled in her ear. I watched her look down for a second before downing her drink and nodding.

I got Edward's attention to motion that I was leaving with Rosalie. He nodded back at me, but I didn't miss his eyes as they began shooting daggers at me. Yet another reminder that I had no clue what was really going on.

"Did you drive?" Rose asked as we exited the club.

"No, Edward did," I answered. Rose nodded and called for a cab.

"I'll call a cab," Rosalie spoke as she grabbed her phone out of the bag she was carrying.

We only waited about a minute before the cab showed up. The drive to Rosalie's apartment was relatively short. About ten minutes total, but ten minutes of silence. Neither one of us spoke a word, even though I knew were on our way to her place. I really had no expectations for the night, I was simply going with the flow and letting her lead.

After arguing over who was paying the cab fare I got out twenty bucks lighter at the entrance of Rosalie's apartment building.

The walk up was a quiet one, similar to the cab ride over. Rosalie's apart was located in a nicer part of town, so I wasn't surprised to see the overall maintenance of the stairs and hallway kept up. What did surprise me was how few belongings Rosalie had in her apartment.

The kitchen was well stocked for cooking, but the living room held a simple couch and TV with a a coffee table. The walls were bare and it smelled clean, like hospital sterile clean.

"Sorry," Rosalie apologized for the interior of her place. "I'll be moving soon, so I've been consolidating."

"Oh," I piped up. Now that she said that it made a lot of sense. I had only wished I'd consolidated more before leaving New York. "Where are you moving to?" I was genuinely curious.

"Not sure yet, just out of here," Rosalie shrugged my question off, but I could see behind her eyes that she was lying.

"I see," I replied because I wasn't sure what else to say. I wasn't in a position where I could call her out for lying to me, nor could I admit that I knew of her relationship with Edward and Bella. As much as I wanted to know the details behind it, I knew they would come out in time, or at least when I was in a more direct position to ask.

Rosalie and I camped out on her couch talking. We both asked simply getting to know you type questions as we opened ourselves up more to each other. I told her more about my life in New York and traveling, while she talked about everything except Hollywood.

When I finally realized it was three in the morning, I let Rose know it was time for me to head out, but I inputted her phone number into my phone so that I could call her again later in the week. Rosalie looked disappointed when I opted out of crashing at her house, but without knowing the full details of her life, I didn't feel comfortable. The glare Edward had sent me in the bar was enough to alert me that there was much more going on that I didn't know the half of.

The next week passed like the prior. I was still learning the ropes around the new office and adjusting to a stable life. No more two AM phone calls alerting me that I needed to be on a plane in four hours or relocating every few months. I had been in contact with a realtor who was more than happy to show me as many listings as she could. I currently had my list down to three prospects, all of which I would be doing walk-throughs the following weekend.

The deal with China was actually closed without me on Tuesday night, but I still let Edward and Bella believe I would be out of the house that night. Our company received what we wanted and then some, but I knew if I told them that any plans they may have had would change.

On Thursday night I dressed casually for the office and ducked out around seven PM. This time I took a cab to their street, before walking up to house and in trough the window. When I spotted Rosalie's car I knew I would be walking in on the same scene as I had the Thursday prior.

Just like before Bella and Rosalie appeared to be making love on the fold out couch. Edward was not in my view point, but I assumed he was in his chair against the stairs. I was actually thankful I couldn't see him, because I could do without the image of Edward naked and stroking himself. Of course, I assumed he was. I knew I would be if I were in his shoes, but I felt like I had a different frame of reference.

As before, Rosalie's personality shifted as soon as Edward joined them. He went on to please her physically before retiring to his bedroom with his wife. Bella again stayed behind for a few minutes kissing and cuddling with Rosalie. When she left, Rosalie fell to pieces for a few minutes before gathering her clothes and leaving.

This went on every Thursday that I stayed with Edward and Bella. Each week I'd make an excuse to be out of the house and each week I'd sneak back in to watch the same scene. I'd had coffee with Rosalie a few times over the weeks, but never found a lead into the conversation I wanted to have with her.

Moving day had finally arrived and I would be moving into my new condo about fifteen minutes away from Bella and Edward's neighborhood. I knew I would no longer be able to sneak back in to watch and as much guilt as I felt for watching, I felt even worse for Rosalie.

It appeared that Rosalie truly loved Bella, like _in love _kind of love. Bella seemed to share the same feelings, but to me, her emotions didn't appear to run as deep. Edward was obviously head over heels for his wife, while he acted only like he put up with Rosalie's presence. He never spent any extra time kissing, cuddling, or caressing Rose. He was very mechanical in his actions and touches, and his eyes didn't lie. The way he looked at Rosalie was not even an eighth of how he looked at Bella.

Deciding I had finally given up, I found the courage to ask Rosalie out on a date. Like a real date. Getting to know Rosalie was like getting to know my missing half. Everything about her seemed to fit with me, but I knew as long as she saw me as a friend, she'd never open up to me. I was by no means a professional, but I didn't feel like her arrangement with Edward and Bella was best for her emotionally. Each week she'd crash and burn in a pit of tears only to do a walk of shame to her car. I had to push and push some more, but I finally was able to convince her to go to dinner with me..._on a Thursday. _

"So what are your plans for the week?" Bella asked during my last night at their house. I officially signed for the keys to my condo and would be moved out the next morning.

"Not much; moving and unpacking. I took some time off work this week to get settled," I explained. "Thursday night I'm taking Rosalie out for dinner." I wasn't sure if I'd get a reaction, but when Bella dropped the fork onto her plate, I knew I had. Fury radiated from her eyes and I knew she was more than pissed off at my announcement.

"You two have been getting close, right?" Edward asked with indifference. If my intent to date Rosalie upset him, he showed absolutely no sign of it. Unlike his wife who looked like she was about to fly out of her chair and stab me to death with the fork she was now white knuckling.

"Yeah, I guess," I shrugged nonchalantly. "She's nice and I never really thought I stood a chance with her in high school. But now that we're adults, well, let's just say the feelings are still there."

Bella had apparently heard enough as she quickly excused herself to the master bedroom. I had no missed the silent tears threatening to fall from her eyes. Edward looked up at his retreating wife and sighed. He then left me only to return with a glass of scotch, muttering that I'd be needing this before he re-took his seat and finished eating.

"They're close?" I broached the topic stealthily. Edward had no knowledge of the details I knew, so I was fearful of giving too much away.

"You could say that." His voice sounded wary. I could see the internal debate he was having with himself. When he finally decided which way to side he spoke up again, "When Rosalie got back from Hollywood let's just say...well, she came back damaged. Bella helped Rosalie pull through it and they've been close since then. Bella is very protective of Rosalie, it's nothing personal, she just...it's hard to explain."

"What happened in Hollywood?" I pushed.

"To be honest," he took a sip of his drink. "I'm not sure I know the full story. What I do know is Ro was set to audition for some movie her friend told her about. When she got there she found out the movie was actually a porn and her audition was...well...to show her tricks. Ro..um... hadn't done anything yet and went to leave. The guy running the show, Royce I think his name was, tried to stop her. He didn't fully rape her, but it was enough to leave the scars as if he had. Ro booked the next flight out of Hollywood and never looked back."

I nodded because I feared what I may say if I opened my mouth. Just the thought of a man forcing himself onto Rose made my blood boil. If I ever saw him, I'd kill him.

"How did Bella help Rosalie...cope?" I got out through clenched teeth.

"I think you know," Edward stated before taking another sip of his scotch.

I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Dude, I'm not dumb. You haven't had a meeting since the first night you were here. Nor are you quiet when climbing a tree." He didn't appear to be angry as he called me out for watching.

"And," I nodded for him to continue.

"Look, there is a lot to me and Bella no one knows. Things no one has ever known. What you've watched isn't unusual nor is Rosalie the first. Remember Angela Webber?" Edward asked.

"The Reverends daughter?" I gawked.

"Um yeah, she was only a Christian in church. Anyways, Bella and Angela were hooking up before Bella and I were hooking up. So it just sorta happened. I accepted long ago that there were parts of my wife that I'd either be okay with or I'd walk away from. I chose to stay. It's how it is.

"When Rosalie showed up, Bella and I hadn't been with anyone else in a while. At first it was just them, I never asked for the details. Then one day Bella wanted me to join, as a sort of test for Rosalie because I was a guy. That's how it all started and frankly, it's gone on too damn long.

"Bella and I have never kept someone around this long, not since Angela. And just like Angela we're having the same problem. Rosalie is in love with Bella, Bella loves Rosalie. Just like fucking Angela. She came to Bella one day and said she was going to out them, tell her parents and stuff, but Bella never wanted that. Bella wanted me. The aftermath wasn't pretty.

"My point is, the only reason I haven't outed you is because I see the way you look at Ro. You're good for her, can give her something we can't. I care for Ro, I do, but I love my wife. I don't want Rosalie, I want Bella. And for some strange reason, Ro has it in her head that she's going to move in here as a third. Like a poly type thing. And that's just not how we are.

"I know Bella has tried to explain it to her. I was there when she did. But Rosalie just kept going on and on about how perfect we all were for each other. It just doesn't work like that. So, in walks you, and Rosalie finally shifts her attention. Honestly dude, I was thanking God because I don't know how much longer I cpi;d do this.

"Don't worry about Bella though, she hates change even though she knows it's been a long time coming. As I said before, Ro wasn't the first and frankly, she won't be the last. We'll never let it be a friend again though, that is for damn sure." When Edward finally stopped talking, he downed the rest of his scotch and left me at the table.

I wasn't sure how much time had elapsed before I got up and went to my room, silently recovering from the information I'd just had thrown at me.

**A/N~**

So you're right, this isn't the end. How could it be? I wouldn't want to see this end here either, which is why it won't. When I first signed up to do the 30 Days of Emmett, I thought cool? Write an Emmett story, that's cake! Took me a few days, but I was randomly laying in bed listening to my iPod and this plot came to me. At first, I thought cool, it'll be about 5K words, but then I started to outline it. Yeah, oops. When it's all said and done it'll probably be between 25-30K, if not a little bit more. Why? Because I'm a wordy h00r at times and in this case, the story I want to write is just too big for a one-shot. Sometimes plots take a hold of you and just become more.

Good news? This isn't the end, I'm simply going to take my once o/s idea and turn it into a mini-fic. My estimation is about 3-4 chapters, 5 at the most.

So feel free to look me up and throw me on an author's alert, because I will finish this. I just realized that, although I could cut it down and keep it around 10K words, I felt the characters deserved more than that.

Also, feel free to follow me on twitter at SammieLynnsMom, any information and updates will be posted there as well.


	48. Another One Shot from Miztrezboo

**Pen name:**Miztrezboo

**Rating:**M (for language)

**Pairing:**Emmett & Alice

**Title**: Pigtail Pulling

**Summary:**A prank that goes too far lands the most unlikely suspects in a situation where more than just annoying habits get revealed.

**A/N:** To my Loud Bob, Ms Life and the bringer of much tears whenever she updates aka Accy, you ladies rock my socks. Much Tommett spam ASAP xo

Pigtail Pulling

_~:: Round One ::~_

Fucking McCarty.

He was so irritating. Unbelievably annoying.

Infuriatingly good-looking, and frustratingly nice.

Yes, _nice._

I hate nice people. Wait... that's a lie, I actually like nice people. My best friend is nice. He's a total sweetheart and everyone loves him because he's – for lack of a better word – nice.

Yet, Emmett McCarty... Emmett McCarty is the opposite of 'nice' nice. He's the nice that makes you want to slap it off his face. So nice you want to kick him hard in the shin to get him to leave you alone with his sweetness. The nice that makes you hope he'll push you against the lockers and kiss you silly.

Not that I want that.

Fucking Emmett McCarty.

It's all his fault we're in here. The fucking principal's office of all places. This is so embarrassing, I can feel my face flushing blood red, yet that sucker... that 'nice' fucker is casually standing beside me with a fucking smirk on his face.

Damn his dimples. Stupid blue-eyed, curly-haired, 'nice' asshole. _Nicehole_. Heh, that fits him perfectly.

"Is there anything you have to say for yourselves?"

I shrug and notice Nicehole copies. Ugh, can't even come up with his own nonchalant move.

"Nothing? Nothing at all after the incident that has probably single-handedly cut the extra funding we'd just managed to snare for the Music Department? Something I know you hold dearly, Miss Brandon?"

"_Me_?" I squeak more like squawk, astonished that he can possibly be blaming this on _me._ Before I can even catch myself, my mouth spews forth more words than a person of my stature should have room for in her lungs .

"You think this is _my_ problem? I'll have you know, Principal Banner, that it was _his_ fault. _His_ fault that I had to take matters into my own hands, because simply asking him to stop wasn't enough. Is it not bad enough that he torments me in the hallways, disturbs me in every class and constantly sweet talks Mrs. Cope into giving him the one hall we have for my cheerleading rehearsals so his stupid jocks can roll around on the floor in tights?"

"It's a leotard, Al."

I roll my eyes and refuse to look at him. He can't make me look at him. "It's Al_ice,_ you moron. How many times do I have to tell you this?"

I feel him shrug his shoulders and sigh, "You say tights, I say Al. It's an easy fix, _Al."_

Thirty years to life is starting to look good right about now. I am pretty and crafty, maybe I won't be someone's bitch, but _the_bitch instead. McCarty is just pushing all the wrong buttons. I can pull off an orange jumpsuit. I'm blessed with a most neutral skin tone.

"Miss Brandon, Mr. McCarty. The shenanigans of the past year have gotten completely out of hand, as witnessed by the PTA and the entire school population yesterday in the parking lot. I don't think either of you want me to mention the bus race across state lines that you were both involved in last spring. Nor do I think you would want to know about half the phone calls I've received this morning from parents wanting to know just exactly what I was going to do about the pair of you after the so-called car wash this weekend."

Banner's face is starting to go as red as mine, though his is more from anger. He has that trademark Banner spittle growing at the corner of his lips. Even I know that this means we've pushed him too far.

Stupid fucking McCarty.

"In my defense, the bikinis she had the cheer squad in were white, we had to step it up a notch or we wouldn't have made a single dollar. What's really that bad about red thongs anyway? I'll have you know, Principal Banner, that two of my boys were offered modeling contracts for the next edition of _Wrestling Weekly_," Nicehole points out as he throws himself into the small, uncomfortable plastic chairs that Banner has in his office as some sort of deterrent for wanting to spend any time in here at all.

"_Wrestling Weekly_? Isn't that some offshoot of the school paper that you not only organize, but run?" I ask, finally turning to face him because if he believes he can get away with throwing around the word "contracts" and get out of whatever mess we're in, he's wrong.

"Money is still money, Al, and it's good promotion for the team and the school."

"It's a local magazine."

"We all gotta start somewhere, sweets."

"Sweets? _Sweets_?" I stare at him wide-eyed and open-mouthed and desperately trying to think of something, anything that can relay just how fucking annoyed I am at him, but nothing comes out.

He grins wider, dimples deepening and I swear to god there's one of those Disney sparkles in his eyes.

There's a letter opener on the desk. Surely it would be sharp enough to pierce his elephant hide. I could say he fell on it... he's six-foot gigantor something, he probably hasn't seen his toes since he was three!

"Mr. McCarty - " Banner starts with a slightly furrowed brow, and if I'm not mistaken, the corner of his spittle mouth twitching.

Fucking men's club.

Emmett interrupts, raising his huge hands up in the air in a forgiving gesture. "Sorry, slipped out."

"Slipped? _Out_?"

Emmett reaches over and touches his stupid sausage finger to my elbow. Yes, that's our height difference even when he's sitting down. What exactly is poking me in the arm going to do but aggravate me some more? He's always pulling stunts like this. Overgrown MAN CHILD.

Just when I think I've ignored him properly, he's doing it once more, but a little harder. I flinch and glare at him, bitch brow quirked right up into my bangs. He grins and I've blocked out anything that Banner may be saying. It's when he touches me with that finger a third time that I grab it, and in a few short moves have his arm pinned behind his back and he's crying uncle.

_Heh. Self Defence 101, Nicehole!_

"ENOUGH!" Banner shouts and it's a frighteningly loud enough sound that I drop my hold on Nicehole for a microsecond which is enough for Emmett to free himself. He shakes me off and rubs at his arm, grinning at me like a fucking loon.

Freak.

"I've tried with you both this year, making allowances and turning a blind eye, all for the f both of you being the best teachers we've had for the highest selling points this high school has to offer. I just can't do it anymore, this nonsense has to end."

"But he-"

"But she-"

"NO! Whatever plans you had for this weekend, unplan them. Cancel, make an excuse, I don't care because you won't be making it to whatever cake making class," he stares at me, "or knitting circle you have lined up." He stares at Emmett… knitting? "Mr Gerandy's Senior Astronomy class is camping out at the Old Stanley place and unfortunately or fortunately for them you two have just offered to chaperone seeing as Denis has injured his ankle due to one of _your_ stunts."

Fuck.

"Fuck." Emmett, the gigantic assinator, actually voices my thought and doesn't even get a glare from Banner.

See? Men's club.

"Indeed, Mr. McCarty. Now, I suggest you take the rest of this afternoon to pack because you'll be needed back here promptly in one hour."

He has the audacity to grace us with one final toothy smile.

"Have a lovely weekend, Miss Brandon, Mr. McCarty."

_~:: Round Two ::~_

"God, you can't even get it up right."

"Oh, I assure you, I can."

"Well, from where I'm standing it doesn't look like it."

"Maybe that's because you're too far away, come a little closer, Al."

"For fruit's sake, don't. Call. Me. Al. Nicehole!"

"What did you call me?"

Fuckity.

He drops the side of the tent he's been attempting to put up for the last hour, and those irksome-see-everything-eyes of his are staring at me with interest.

"Nothing." I mutter and attempt to look anywhere but into those blue tractor beams of his.

"Oh, yes you did, you called me a name. And not even a real word at that!" He's laughing now and I want to slap his face, push him down into the dirt and grind myse no. I do not.

"And you said 'fruit' instead of fu-" he stops just shy of repeating a word that even though the kids we're here with know, we both have to show a little restraint with.

I straighten my shoulders and square myself off to face him where he's now failing at hiding his amusement. The small group of ten students we have with us have stopped setting up the several different sized telescopes and are staring.

"Mr. McCarty-"

"I've told you, Al, it's Mac when we're off the clock."

I roll my eyes. "We're not 'off the clock' or whatever you want to think this is, _Mr. McCarty_, especially when we have children in our presence."

"We're not kids, Miss B," a nasally whine calls from to my left.

"Thank you, Eric. I'm aware of that."

"Not a problem, Miss B." And I know Eric is pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Ugh.

Emmett's lips twitch at the sides and I feel my face heat up with rage at this whole situation. I was supposed to be at my cake decorating class with Jasper's mother, doing some 'mother-I-wanted-a-daughter-but-got-a-son-and-even-though-he's-more-girly-than-I-am-I-have-to-go-to-these-things bonding session. Jasper thinks it's hilarious that Esme guilts me into doing all these weird arts and crafts classes at the community college with her. I don't mind, really, my own mother lives out of state and miles away and I actually like learning. Not that I'd ever tell Jasper that.

I like having that extra sway of 'I do these things with your mom so you don't have to, now you owe me' over him.

"I'm not even supposed to be here," I mumble and pick up my side of the large two-room dome tent that was all we had left for Emmett and me to sleep in. I plan on making him sleep outside, it's a cloudless night and it's the end of spring. He'll be fine.

Plus, he has a layer of blubber to shield him from the cold.

"Thirty seven? THIRTY SEVEN!" Emmett shouts and I look up from where I've been attempting to stuff the thin plastic pole into the little flap, wondering just what the hell he's on about now.

I raise my right brow and give him that 'what?' look. He's smiling, a big proper smile with those dimples so deep into his cheeks. Damn he's so pretty sometimes. Shame about the personality.

"Yeah, I mean aside from the cheating, we were a great couple. I mean that's what high school was about, algebra, bad lunch, and infidelity."

"What?" I spit out. He's obviously lost his mind.

"People say crazy shit during sex. One time I called this girl Mom."

"Mr. McCarty!"

"It's Clerks, Miss B," Tyler calls out from where he was tapping the last peg of the boys' tent into the ground.

"_What_ is Clerks, Tyler?"

Emmett's eyes widen and when he tilts his head to look at me, a little stunned, his curls flop down over his ears and I feel a tingle in my fingertips to brush them back.

They're in the way of his eyes. And we all know that when hair gets in your eyes it can lead to infection. I am not spending the weekend listening to a sick man whine. I in no way wanted to play with Emmett's hair. None.

"Weren't you quoting Clerks before?"

I know I was, but I'm kind of embarrassed that I didn't notice the random quotes he was so obviously trying to impress me with now, so I remain aloof.

"I was merely stating that I wasn't supposed to be here today."

"Thirty seven? THIRTY SEVEN! I'm THIRTY SEVEN!" Ben calls from where he had been glued to Angela Webber in a make out session that hasn't stopped since we met at the school a few hours ago.

"Mr. Cheney. I do believe you and Miss Webber need to make a start on collecting the firewood."

"But –" Ben starts and then stops, realizing I'm giving him an out to be alone with Angela somewhere a lot more private than the large field we're standing in.

"Yes, Miss Brandon. Thanks," he calls over his shoulder as he drags a giggling Angela behind him.

"Now back to the subject at hand. Mr. McCarty, I do believe you told me we'd have this tent done in seconds?" I place my hands on my hips and he shakes his head, before returning to his side of the tent.

"Let's take this nice and slow, Al. You can't rush perfection."

"It's, _Alice_."

Hate him.

_~:: Round Three ::~_

I should have been asleep hours ago, yet I'm lying here listening to that big oaf outside toss and turn.

And snore.

Yes, I made him sleep outside. There was not a hope in hell of having him anywhere near me in my pajamas. After that incident at the school swim meet where he 'accidentally' cut the strings of my bikini, causing a most unfortunate wardrobe malfunction and a group of passing eighth graders to instantly bone up, I am very careful of where Emmett and my boobs share the same vicinity.

Finally, _finally,_ all is quiet and I roll onto my side and close my eyes.

.

. .

. . .

Only to wake up, eyes wide, body shaking after what feels like seconds. My blood is pounding in my ears and it's all I can hear. I can't breathe, as the adrenaline pumps ridiculously quick around my veins. I lay still, attempting to calm myself when I get this feeling that someone or something is close by.

I swallow hard, trying to form a word but everything is sticking in my chest.

Then I see it, my eyes having finally adjusted to the little light from where the lantern is on low, and it's this dark shape right above me.

I can't scream. I can't shout. I can't _move._

"_You know you want it, Al." … warm breath on my neck, sickly sweet cheap bourbon clouding around me…. "You've always wanted it."_

"_I-I don't.. Stop!" … a thick leg between mine, pushing, shoving. My hands slapping, scratching and nothing…. Nothing making him stop._

… "_No. No. NO!"_

"Alice? Alice! Stop, it's me, it's just me!" I blink and blink and wrestle against the tight grip he has my hands in. Too close. Too big. Too much.

"No! STOP!"

I'm sobbing and he's pulling me up onto his lap and against that broad chest that seconds ago I was flailing against.

I can't hear what Emmett says. I know it's soothing. I know he's telling me it was just a dream. If only he knew. If only he knew that it wasn't like that, it was a living nightmare. Another large form that was over me, another large form that called me Al and one that I'll never forget.

I'm brought back from the past with the familiar scent of his cologne, even through all the dirt of today and the campfire… he smells so good. Soon I'm nuzzling against his neck and as the shudders of fear slow, and still it is still his warmth that is grounding me to the now. Holding me to it as much as he is holding me to him. I grip one hand hard into his shirt and the other wraps around his side. I can feel his lips press against my forehead, soft and sweet, but as reassuring as his words are, his touch means so much more.

Seconds, minutes, hours pass and all I know is that he holds me and I feel safe. Not scared, not hurt, not dirty – a feeling I haven't found with a man since that night in college so very long ago.

When I wake in the morning it is in his arms. Strong, and not too tightly wrapped around me, but enough so that I know he is near and hasn't left me during the night. I watch him sleep, his broad chest rise and fall under my ear as I've managed to snuggle against him during the rest of the night and into this early dawn. His left nostril keeps making this whistling noise with every breath and I fight the urge to block it just to make the noise stop.

I don't know how long I lay there, content, amazed that I'm beside this man who usually I cannot stand to be in the same room with for more than five seconds, yet in this moment, I can't think of another place I'd rather be.

It's only when his large dinner plate size hand slides down from the safe area of my waist to rest on my ass and squeezes that I remember who he is and why I've always fought any attraction I've felt to him at all.

Those hotdog sized fingers squeeze my tush and I tweak his nose in response – almost immediately.

He smirks and does it again murmuring a quiet, "and a good morning to you, too."

I sit up quickly and roll myself out of his arms. I should know better than to trust the untrustworthy. The sheet moves with me and I'm greeted with the sight of a tent in his pants that's almost as big as the one we're currently laying in. Nicehole is packing a serious salami under his Spongebob Square Pants sleep shorts. Even though its _him,_ I'm still a girl who's dry patch has gone on for _far_ too many years – my mouth waters and I feel that place at the juncture of my thighs tighten in appreciation-or want.

He stretches his arms above his head, the thin grey sweatshirt that has his alma mater emblazoned on the front rides up, revealing toned, tanned skin and I have to swallow a moan. The muscles in his arms bulge, the cuffs tight around his biceps, and then he winks, those warm blue depths revealed as I lick my lips in appreciation of the form I once thought of as Shrek-like.

I resist rolling my eyes as he quirks one brow in what I'm sure is his 'like what you see here?" move and cross my arms in front of me after throwing the sheets back at him. Emmett lets them lay balled over his stomach – my attempt to cover his stunning body absolutely pitiful – and then his smirk is gone, his dimples disappearing to reveal a new look.

Concern.

Right… last night.

I chew on my lip, a tic I picked up in therapy and speak softly, concentrating on where the paint in the letter A on his shirt has started to peel off with age. "Thank you, for, um, last night," I stutter.

He sits up, careful not to be too close and reaches a hand out between us, but doesn't touch me. "I'm sorry I scared you, Alice. I heard you and thought maybe it was one of the boys in here playing a trick. I didn't think any of them would… you want to tell me what that was all about?"

I say nothing, struggling to blink away the stinging that is starting in my eyes. I _will_ not cry. Not anymore.

"It's me, isn't it? I thought it might be me." He sighs, running a hand over his face, the sound of his stubble scratchy and loud in our quiet. "I never mean anything I say, Alice, maybe I took joking with you about the wolves out here too far."

I stiffen and it's noticeable. I know he sees, because he stiffens too and then he _does_ reach out that little bit further, the tips of his fingers brushing my knee that's closest. Instead of flinching at this, I feel my body soften, relax and I start talking before I realize I am.

"It's not you… well, sort of," I start, because it's the truth and after last night I feel like I should tell him. I need to be honest. "I know you've always wondered why we don't get along. It's not that I hate you, Em, it's never been that. It's just…"

"I scare you. I know I scare a lot of people, I'm pretty loud."

"And obnoxious." I smile a little and he chuckles in response.

"And obnoxious," Emmett echoes, shifting closer and I turn so his hand is between us, his palm up and I release the hold I've had on myself to trace the lines of life that are deep and varied across his bronze skin.

He flips his hand so our fingers are intertwined and I look at the difference between us, my hand almost swallowed by his. Then up into his eyes, where only care and a need to understand shines through the blue, that now I'm closer is more aqua – a perfect blend of cool waters and warm ocean currents and I tell him.

I tell him it all.

Junior year of college, bright and naive and thinking that being on the cheer squad was enough to keep me safe at night when walking home from one keg party too many. That having the captain of the football team taking me out regularly was enough to keep me out of the hands of those that would take what I didn't want to offer.

But it didn't. He was the one who came in even though I said good night. He was the one to push me to the bed and take and take until I had locked myself in so far away from all the hurt and pain and broken trust that it took two years of intense therapy to get me to even go out at night. Catatonic they'd said in those first weeks. My classes passed with no question to stop charges being laid. He was going to win the Heisman Trophy, couldn't have a black mark against his name.

By the time I'm finished, Emmett is squeezing my hand too tight, the muscles in his jaw working overtime and his eyes – they're blazing blue fire.

I touch his cheek and he comes back. "I'm sorry."

That's all he says. It's all I need and thank you doesn't seem to be enough. He rests his forehead against mine, the fire slowly dying in his eyes as they return to calmer waters. We breathe. His rough and ragged, eventually evening out to my own and I wonder where this man has been under all the jokes and annoying pranks that have had me wanting to rip my hair out or his clothes off for the better part of three years . Back when I thought he was some dorky jock wannabe with a double degree in mathematics and physical education. Emmett releases my hand, cups my face so softly, and his thumb brushes over my cheek.

"I'd never hurt you, Alice. Never."

My heart pounds and I can't stop staring into his eyes. He means this. He really means it. I'm swept away by simple words, his scent, the gentle in the giant and I think he's leaning in and I'm leaning in and his lips… his lips are rosy and a little weather worn from being outside most of the night, but he licks them and turns his head just a little, angling in as he gets even closer and I press forward too. We're so close, so close I'm breathing his breath.

_Yes…_

"Miss Brandon? Have you seen Coach anywhere? I think I heard a grizzly in the bushes over by the shitter."

And our moment is gone when Emmett pulls back and wipes at his lips and I press my fingers to my own. He shakes his head, stands up, adjusting the salami stick none too discreetly and calls out that he's just checking that I hadn't used poison oak as toilet paper the night before.

I laugh, it's nervous and light but say nothing. However, before we leave I do manage to lace his underwear with itching powder that has him going crazy the entire bus ride home.

~:: Round Four::~

The next four weeks pass easily. We don't get hauled into Banner's office any more-or less than usual, anyway. He still interrupts my Dance and Drama classes to ask if my fridge is running and other inane jokes. I still have the Laundromat in town 'accidentally' send the team back pink leotards before a few meets.

Business as usual, or so it would seem.

He never calls me Al anymore. I smile back when I see him in the halls.

Graduation night is fast approaching and for awhile I hardly see him – he's busy with his Mathletes, and me with Glee club and midyear Dance recitals for the little company I co-run with Jasper outside of school.

It's the morning of graduation that we both find ourselves in Banner's office, in the positions that have become familiar since the moment Emmett put salt in my tea the first morning he started working here and I retaliated by throwing it in his face.

He'd also forgotten to put boiling water in. Such a clown.

We're in our regular places, Emmett sprawled in the stiff plastic chair like he owns the place, and I walk in a little late, not acknowledging him as I sit with my feet crossed at the ankles and tucked under me. Banner smiles and his mustache – that's a recent edition – wiggles.

"Well, you're probably wondering why I called you both in here."

I nod, because I really haven't a clue and I have a million other things I could be doing this afternoon, none of which involve either of the men I'm in here with now.

"Could you maybe hurry this up, Derek, I've got three letters of recommendation to complete for MIT before the afternoon is out," Emmett cuts in, sounding rather tired and for the first time I really notice him, he's got these little tortoise shell frames on that look even tinier when he lifts them with his hand as his fingers pinch at the bridge of his nose.

When he settles them back down again, they only serve to magnify the lines and dark circles that surround his eyes, and I wonder if it's something other than just end of year school work giving him that exhausted look.

It's probably that blonde that's been subbing for Senora Aguilar's Spanish class while she goes on maternity leave. She's got big tits and legs that go on for miles. I've seen them talking in the halls, seen him offering to show her around. Maybe she's the reason I've seen less and less of him, heard less and less of his voice and his crude jokes? Thinking about it, he hasn't interrupted my class once this week.

This pang hits my chest, right about where my heart is and I flinch, my hand coming to cover the hurt.

Sausage fingers graze my elbow, remaining for longer than I deem necessary and I turn toward him, worry etched in his features and I shake him off.

"Don't," I whisper, but it's harsh even to my ears as I spin back around and squish myself against the plastic in the corner furthest from his touch.

"Aly?" he starts and I silence him once more.

"It's Miss Brandon."

The silence is palpable in the room after my outburst. I feel ill and heart sore, and I have no reason. No claim on him, so whatever he does or doesn't do with the Spanish Barbie doll has nothing to do with me.

Banner clears his throat and I vaguely hear Emmett mumbling something to the side of me. I breathe in as deep as my lungs currently allow and focus on the man in front of us.

"Where were we? Oh, right. I actually called you both in here to commend you on your change in behavior over the past month. It appears that the little astronomy get away helped. I've also written a letter to your new high school, Miss Brandon, that I think is quite glowing. We'll be very sorry to lose you here, but I understand the need to spread your wings and all that," he finishes with a sad smile that I return.

"You're leaving?" Emmett's voice is loud and full of… an emotion that I'm not sure I want to recognize.

"Yes." I answer.

"Oh."

Before anything else can be said, I excuse myself without looking at Emmett, and go back to my classes.

The days pass agonizingly slowly. Soon, it's my last and my students are full of surprises with flowers and candy, presents and little skits and shows, and my cheer squad performs a special number out on the field with a few graduating members of the football team as dance partners.

I'm a mixed bag of emotions and manage to _just_ rein it in when it's time for final goodbyes at the graduation ceremony. I shed more than a few tears when caps go flying into the air. There are hugs, photos, and introductions to out of state family members, as more than only me say goodbye to the school that's been my home for more years than I care to count.

It's as the crowd dwindles and I'm walking to my car, hoping to make a get away without gathering too much attention that I hear _him_.

He calls and calls my name - always Alice - and it's only when he changes to Miss Brandon that I stop. I ground myself, take a deep breath and turn to face him.

His face is red, and forehead sweaty, but he still looks amazing. The glasses are gone and he's squinting into the afternoon light with hands on hips, bent forward as he catches his breath. I wait and tap a toe. I don't know what he wants to talk about ,but that pain is back in my chest again when I spot Senora Contrares staring in our general direction.

"Christ ,woman, didn't you hear me calling your name?" he splutters, finally standing up straight and towering over me as usual.

I step back. "I must have missed it. I have places to go Mr- "

"Stop right now with that shit, Al."

My back stiffens ramrod straight.

He curses under his breath and reaches out with his large hand toward me, I shrink back again and grip my keys a little harder. I know my car is close.

"Sorry, Alice." He shoves his hands in the deep pockets of his black dress pants and it pulls the front tight right across where I know lives a large member of his anatomy. I disregard that thought as soon as it enters my head and cross my arms over my chest.

"What is it you want?"

"I just, I didn't want you to go without saying goodbye." His voice is so soft that I have to lean in to hear it. So unlike the man that once called out 'nice underoos Raggedy Ally' across a football field and had me tumble from the top of the pyramid I was showing my squad how to do. I was in a cast for six weeks and we lost the championship to our rival school.

Impressed at his vocal skills, I was not.

"Well goodbye then, Mr. McCarty. It's been…" I stop, a pleasure isn't the right phrase. It's been fun and annoying and he's been like a mosquito in your room that you can't see but can hear all night annoying you – but a pleasure? There hasn't been much of that. "It's _been,_" I finish and turn again.

His hand grips my elbow, the one he's always poked and I spin once more out of his reach and find myself backed up against the door of my car. Emmett steps closer, so close I can feel the heat of his body above my own and for a second, just a second I fall into the past that he knows about and he jumps back like I burned him.

"Sorry! Oh fuck, so sorry, Alice. I didn't.. I wasn't… this isn't what I wanted to say at all."

I turn with shaking hand and attempt to put my key in the lock. I can't wait till my new pay rate begins at this new school so I can rid myself of my tiny hunk of junk car and finally have something with automatic locking doors.

"Please, Alice. Just give me a chance here. We've never talked about that night."

I stiffen again, my body shaking not with remnants of fear, but with anger that he'd bring that up here. Here of all places where anyone could hear. It was private, something I only told him because of what happened.

"I don't want to talk about _that night. _I'd prefer to imagine it didn't happen at all and I'd appreciate it if you spoke to no one about it. I may be leaving, but I still have a reputation at this school that is mostly unblemished."

His big blues widen and his mouth drops he stutters something, but I'm jiggling the door handle trying to get it to open and pay no attention to his half words.

A sputtering choke and then wheeze indicates one of the students' cars has stopped close by, and by the smell of exhaust now surrounding me it, has to be Tyler and his van.

"Hey Miss B, Coach, now that we're all finished with school and stuff would you like to come to a party with us?"

"We'd love to," Emmett finishes and drags me by the arm to the sliding door that I can see Ben Cheney opening. A flood of sweet smelling smoke escapes, then the door is closed and I'm still crouching inside of the van as I hear Emmett tap the roof and slide into the front seat.

I snap up the last piece of bench space beside Jessica Stanley, the least talented of all my dance students and we're off, more smoke billowing, I'm sure, as Mike Newton hands me a bong made out of an apple. He laughs at the irony and then wonders aloud at where the word irony came from.

I pass it on to Jessica and let the conversation go on around me as I stare daggers into a head of black curls in the passenger seat.

When we get to the party, at Stanley's grandparents farm, the same farm where we'd been in the tent those few weeks before, I'm out the door and stomping off toward the house before he can get his belt undone. He wants me to be here, then I'll be here.

And I'll have _fun_ while I'm at it.

_~:: Knockout ::~_

"I told you I was Queen of Beer pong!" I slur and waver on my feet, leaning against someone for support. I think my partner was Angela, but she seems to be gone and someone a lot taller is the wall I'm leaning on.

"Sure you are, and I'm the Dalai Llama," this voice I would know anywhere answers.

"Hey." I push off him; falling against the table making a few cups tip over.

"I think you've had enough Miss Brandon." His large hand cups my elbow. That same elbow he always touches and my body comes alive at the contact.

"_Miss Brandon,_ now is it?" I ask, attempting to turn and poke him in the chest, but end up rubbing my palm over it instead. So firm.

"Seriously, Alice, I think it's time to stop."

"Who are you?" I snort. "My dad? I've got news for you, buddy, he's cold and been in the ground for the last two years now. So suck on that!"

Emmett tells me he remembers, and I know he does. He was the first to offer me condolences and I heard from my mother later that he sent her a card and flowers. I'm making no sense, but talk of my Dad has me all melancholy now, and I sway to the side, but Emmett catches me.

I blink and my stomach rolls. "Oh, I don't feel so good."

My ears have this new roaring sound and then my world is askew, my legs off the floor and I realize as he puts my arms around his neck that Emmett has picked me up.

Oh hell no.

"Oh hell yes," he answers, either reading my mind or answering me because I actually said it out loud, and I'm arguing the entire way through a crowd of wolf whistles and upstairs until the thump of the stereo is the only thing left to hear. He places me down on the bed, like I'm going to break if he moves too fast and I tell him that I feel sick. He's gone, I call for him the moment he leaves my eye line and then there's cool and wet on my forehead.

I sigh and close my eyes, letting myself fall back onto whoever's mattress this is and Emmett follows, the wonderful cool thing on my head comes too.

My hand lays over his on my head and I breathe slowly in and out, concentrating on how good the cloth feels on my head and ignoring my slightly queasy stomach. Emmett uses his free hand to stroke my hair behind my ear after it is obvious I'm not moving. It feels nice and I tell him so.

We're quiet like this for... ages. So long that I think I might have fallen asleep for some part, but when I open my eyes again he's staring at me. Big baby blues just gazing at my face and he looks sad. I raise my hand, using the back of my knuckles to draw down the underside of his jaw. He leans into my touch and my hand slides round the back of his neck, pulling him toward me. I want him close, I need to breathe him in, forgetting that all the stupid things have gone on and that he is actually a nice guy. I want to remember the last time I was alone with him, this close with him.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asks, finally laying down beside me, his head propped up on one bent arm.

"Tell you what?" I whisper in return, turning my head but not my body because I'm still not sure on how that would end up.

Emmett strokes the hair out of my face again, his fingers lingering on my skin, my eyes close at the intimacy of his touch, but I force them open. I want to see him when he talks.

"That you were leaving this year. Why didn't you tell me?"

I'm slightly confused, I knew that keeping my transfer a secret was probably a bad idea, but I wasn't one for a lot of fanfare, so I asked Banner to keep it quiet.

"Because I didn't think you'd care. It's not like it affects you."

Blue eyes widen and his fingers stop their trail over my forehead and down to my ear.

"Didn't think I'd care? Are you kidding me, Alice? Of course I care."

"Oh, you're just upset you're going to be losing your favorite target to practice on. Who will it be when I'm gone? Maybe Senora Contrares. Oops!" I stop, covering my mouth with one hand. "Looks like I've said too much." I giggle, but it's forced, the turn in our conversation taking me to someplace serious, someplace where the beer in my veins no longer keeps me in a comfortable numb but has me coming shockingly fast to the surface of reality.

"What are you talking about, Alice? There's nothing going on with me and Katerina."

I roll my eyes and attempt to roll away from him on my other side.

Bad move.

The floor is there, but I don't meet it, only come within an inch, because yet again, my knight in polyester armor is there to save me.

"I'll have you know my shirt is actually a poly-cotton blend, thank you very much," Em huffs and I realize the brain to mouth filter has yet again gotten clogged up with alcoholic beverages and is no longer working.

I also realize that his nose is very close to my nose, that his lips are hovering above mine.

Now I can blame it on the alcohol. I can blame it on the fact we've been nice to each other for the past four weeks and never once spoken about that near kiss we had in the tent or anything...

But I kiss him. Hard.

Which is obviously a good move, because he flips us back onto the bed, him on his back and me laying at this awkward angle over him, and kisses me back. Hard.

God, he tastes good. I probably taste like beer and that one cigarette I bummed from Tyler, but he's just... there are no words to describe. My hands meet his hair and proceed to comb every square inch of that sable mess, as his meet my hips and hold me tightly against him.

He _feels_ amazing too.

Until he doesn't.

And my back goes bouncing on the bed once more. The only sounds in the room now are the rasps of heavy breaths attempting to slow into something a lot more neutral.

"Sorry," we say at the same time and I feel the side of his hand laying right beside mine. The closeness of his skin to mine makes my fingers tingle and because being drunk or once drunk means I've lost nearly all my inhibitions, I don't hesitate to touch my pinky to his.

He doesn't move, just sighs and covers his eyes with the back of his forearm.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this," he whines, almost impossible for me to hear but I do.

"Wasn't it?"

"No." He shakes his head pulling our hands up between us and threading his large fingers through mine. "I had a plan. Well, sort of a plan."

I nod, even though I'm not entirely sure he can see me. It's dark up here, save for the few party lights below on the patio lighting up the bedroom.

"I like you, Alice. I've always liked you. I liked you since that first day I came by to check out the facilities. You were wearing this tiny charcoal skirt-"

"I don't have a charcoal skirt."

A sigh. "Not now, but you did three years ago. Anyway, you had this tiny-"

"Tiny? How short? Because I really don't -"

"It was mid-thigh, and you have great thighs, not too muscular, not too thin, so I noticed okay?"

I giggle and he smiles and continues. "I remember the skirt, I remember your hair brushed out into this bob around your face, a lot shorter than it is now. I remember you dropping this big pile of papers you were holding and I remember checking out your ass when you kneeled down to pick them up."

My hand becomes a fist and smacks his chest at that line.

"Ow! I know, but I'm telling you my story here, babe."

The babe thing is new, but I let it go as he continues talking.

"So, I saw you having dropped these papers and I was checking out your mighty fine ass when you caught me. You stood up and you gave me this look that I guess if I already hadn't found you hot I would have been withered with. But, I did that thing I've always done with girls I'm interested in. I panicked. I actually said something stupid."

"I remember." I chuckle and roll on my side so I can see his blue eyes, so I can see his face as he tells me his list of embarrassing moments. I don't' want to _not_ look at him anymore. "I asked you if you wanted to help, and you said -"

"That you looked like you were doing a damn fine job and I could throw down more paper for you to pick up if I wanted."

I roll my eyes because I vaguely remember this interlude and how annoying I found him.

"Then you walked past and tipped over what I'd already bundled up."

"You could have gone to Banner and told him I was an ass, but you didn't."

(I did.)

"You could have chased after me like I wanted you to, but you didn't. You just put that book on 1940s etiquette in my office. I still have it," he mutters and he actually looks a little sheepish.

"Well, you deserved it. You've been so annoying over the years and even now. Do you not want to kiss me? Does my breath smell really bad or something? I thought..."

He turns to face me and his eyes, those pretty blues are dark and serious. "I do. I really do, but I have to tell you why I've been such an ass to you for so long. It's simple and stupid but.. I just didn't know how else to gain and keep your attention."

My right brow rises way up into my hairline of its own accord at his surprising statement. "So you're saying that you liked me this whole time, but the only way you felt comfortable showing it was to virtually be like a kindergartner pulling my hair?"

He nods and laughs low and I just stare at him. He likes me. All these games we've played over the past three years could have been solved so long ago. Because I like him too.

"I didn't know what else to do to keep your attention. You're so... you and I'm so... me."

This I don't understand. "What does that mean?"

He sighs and closes his eyes. "It means you're you. You have the entire school population in the palm of your hand. Boys dream of dating you and girls all want to be you when they grow up. You're smart, self confident and take no crap from anyone. I'm, well I'm just this geek disguised as a wrestling coach who desperately wants to use his maths and statistics skills with a football team instead, but has to wait 'his turn.'" He pauses and opens his eyes once more, slight hesitation evening out as he realizes I'm not giving him anything to be worried about. I'm listening to him much how he listened to me that night in the tent.

"I'm a big guy, I know girls can be afraid of me. They think I'll like it rough or will hurt them with my so-called "giant bear hands.'" I cringe a little at that, I know it as one of my own names that comes to mind whenever he has gone to touch me in the past (that and sausage fingers, but I'm fairly certain I've never said that aloud before.)

"There was this girl, in High School. I really liked her, and we went ice skating on our first date, she slipped and I went to grab her and... well, she broke her hand. I broke her hand. I was stopped her head from hitting the ice, but I never quite forgave myself for hurting her. It's why I've always been so gentle with you. You're fucking tiny, Alice."

I smile and squeeze his hand in mine.

"That wasn't your fault. You tried to he-"

"I know, I tried. But the thing is, it's always in the back of my head when I touch someone or shake someones hand. And I couldn't hurt you, Alice. I meant what I said that night, I could never hurt you."

"I believe you," I finish, taking his hand that is still joined with mine between us, and rotate it a little so I can press my lips to each of his knuckles as I admit something of my own.

"The first time I saw you was before that. You were just in the hallway outside the office and you were talking to someone on the phone, I think it was your mom. Telling her how much you liked it up here, the fresh air, the good school environment and you just... you had this look on your face that I hadn't seen on myself in a long time. Like talking to her took you back home. To safety and love and to being with the people you care about. I fell a little in love with you that day, Emmett. And I think, I've fallen a little more each and every day since."

There is quiet. Not a sound after my basic admission that I'm in love with him. Love him.

His lips meet mine and our eyes stay open as his tongue traces the line of my bottom lip. My mouth opens with a soft moan from one of us, then he's deepening the kiss and I'm reciprocating and pulling at our joined hands, needing to touch him again. Needing to feel him under my fingertips.

The kiss stops nearly as fast as it starts, I say no, I don't want to stop yet and pull his face back again with my free hand. His hair is so soft, and there's so much of it. These dark curls that have haunted my dreams for far too long. As has this mouth that is now working its way down my neck and scraping teeth over my shoulder as he presses flesh against flesh.

He stops when he gets to my chest, resting his head there as he eases me onto my back. My hand still runs through his curls, sorting them into random patterns, "I'm sorry I made you feel bad or if I made you uncomfortable with all these games, Ally. Does anyone else know about that-"

"No," I cut him off. He's the only one apart from my brother James who I've ever told - not counting therapy. James only knew because when my roommate found me catatonic the next morning, she called him and he made me tell him what went wrong. He was nearly suspended for hitting Felix later that afternoon, once I'd been admitted to hospital and he knew I was safe. From then on he'd been as overprotective as any older brother could be.

Another reason I'd picked this school, so far away from where I'd originally lived to get away from him.

"James would like you," I say, still combing my fingers through his hair, and he stills.

"James, as in your boyfriend?"

I laugh. "No, my brother. He'd like you. He's awfully picky about who I date. But he's not here so... I think even if he didn't like you, you're safe."

"Oh," he answers and we fall into comfortable silence once more. I can't stop touching him and his fingers now trail over my stomach, somehow my shirt had become knotted over my bra earlier in the evening and he's touching my skin. Those big fingers doing delicate things with the curve of my hip and waistline. It's heavenly.

"Do you realize what we're doing here?" I ask Emmett when the silence between us gets too much and the bass from the stereo downstairs stops thumping so madly and returns to a normal beat.

"No," he says and turns his face to lick a line from my neck down, down, along my breastbone to the where the material stops his journey short.

"We're in someone else's bed, someone's parents' bed, making out."

He looks around, lifting his head and showing me those brilliant aqua eyes .

"Making out? Has it been so long for you, Alice Brandon, that you aren't aware of what 'making out' is anymore?" He smirks, dimples flashing.

He leans over me, being careful not to put his full weight on my body, or any of his weight really. I love that he does this, this extra way to show me that he has control, that he knows what I've been through and he'll never push too hard. It'll always be me that sets the pace. I cup his face and pull him close.

"I do believe I need your lips for that, Mr. McCarty."

"It's Emmmm," and that's the last word that is spoken for a long while.

_~:: Rematch :: ~_

The next morning we do the walk of shame, much to the students' evident humor as I've lost my bra somewhere in that room (he knows how to take them off one-handed but can he make it land somewhere safe?). He lost his pants and walks down the stairs and out the front door in nothing more than a pair of South Park boxers. I have to laugh.

Then again so does half the senior population.

Oh, this man. He's made me feel more like a teenager in the last month than I ever did when I actually was a student. I never had that guy who would pick on me to let me know he was interested. I never had that guy that would listen to things I had to say and not make me feel like it was all my fault.

He is my teenage dream. He is the guy I would have chosen ten or so years before.

We manage a ride back to the school where both our cars are parked with Jessica's parents of all people, and he kisses me passionately at my car before tucking me inside and making me promise to call the instant I get in the door at home. I do, and then look outside when he asks me to because he's there.

He figures that we can conserve water and save the world by having a shower for two. He stays for breakfast, cooking me pancakes and bacon with lashings of maple syrup because he's brought too much to feed just one and I wouldn't want him to be wasteful. He naps on the couch with me, watching some action movie I let him choose out of the many that were once James' and are now in my collection until he gets back from his tour of Afghanistan or wherever it is that the Army's Special Ops have sent him now.

He makes Jasper laugh and they bitch on the chicks on Project Runway when Jasper drops by unannounced, catching me lying in some 'strange mans' arms. He stays for dinner, ordering in because he wants someone to share the extra egg rolls (when he really eats them all himself.)

He stays the night, and I'm lost in him. His taste, his touch, his scent. The way the soft hair on this legs tickles between mine, the claw marks I'm most definitely leaving over his broad back and the way he feels when he moves inside me. I can't get enough. Don't want it to ever be enough. But when the sun's rays rise once more, playing white gold through my bare window sill and onto his bronze back, I can't help but feel saddened that we've wasted all this time and had this briefest of brief moment that is to be our last and nothing more.

There's no way I'm doing a long distance relationship. It wouldn't be fair for either of us.

But I don't want to let him go.

Soon, he's shifting and he rolls from his stomach to his side, pulling me close and nuzzling into my neck with a, "good morning sweet thing." I run my hands through his unruly curls and his kisses wind their way up the column of my neck until he pulls back, eyes wary.

His thumbs stroke my cheeks. "Hey now, what are the tears for?"

I shake my head and lean up to find his lips, soft, warm, waiting. He kisses me back for a moment then gives me a look that is obviously him waiting for an answer.

"I just... I've just found you and I don't want to leave you," I admit, tears rolling down my cheeks unchecked now, hot and heavy.

He laughs and I really don't understand why as he pulls me closer than before.

"Oh silly girl. You're not losing me."

"I-I-I am!" I wail. "I leave tonight!"

He laughs harder and I jab him with my elbow on some part of his body that gives.

"Now, who's hurting who?"

"You're laughing? You think this is funny? We finally admit how we really feel and I'm leaving and we'll never see-"

He stills me with a sausage finger over my lips. I bite the fleshy pad enough to bruise but not break skin. I hate being laughed at and he's done so since I admitted I didn't want to let him go.

And Nicehole returns.

"Didn't you hear?" he asks. "I've been transferred to Maryland too. An old college friend of mine needs a offensive coach and I accepted."

Now I'm in shock.

"Guess you're not losing me after all, Ally. And better yet, we'll be working even closer together than before." He smirks and I laugh and we tumble under the sheets once more.


	49. One Shot by charmizane

**Pen name: **charmizane

**Rating: **T

**Pairing: **Rosalie & Emmett

**Title**: Blind Date

**Summary: **Vera wants her best friend, Rosalie, to get back into the dating scene. She sets her up with Emmett, her fiancée's good friend.

**A/N:** Thank you to kyla713 for doing very last minute beta work and always being such a great friend. Thank you to Hmonster4, AccioBourbon and Theheartoflife for putting together such a great event.

"How you managed to talk me into this, I will never know," Rosalie said loudly to her friend in the next room. She leaned into the mirror, with her mouth wide open and eyes looking up to the ceiling and swept the wand of mascara onto each set of lashes.

"Oh stop," Vera replied. "You need to get back out there and have some fun."

Rosalie walked toward the door of the bathroom and addressed her friend directly. "What I _need_ to do is to focus on school."

"Well, you're stuck––we're supposed to meet the guys in half an hour."

Rosalie went back into the bathroom to fluff up her hair one last time. She looked at herself in the mirror and was happy with what she saw, but she was more proud of her brains than her beauty. She was currently working on her Master's degree and it was hard, but she knew the reward would be worth all the work. She flicked off the bathroom light and sat down on the bed next to her friend. "It seems pretty ridiculous to go on a blind date when I'm going back to school in a few weeks," she said, while smoothing out the rumpled comforter.

Vera rolled her eyes toward her, then pushed her friend off the bed and led her out of the room.

Rosalie's parents sat in the living room. Her father watching the baseball game and her mom concentrating on some needlework.

Mrs. Hale looked up when she heard them enter the room. "Are you ladies leaving now?"

"Yes we are," Vera replied politely.

"Hey, Dad. What's the score?"

"Last inning and the Yankees just ran one in," her father said with enthusiasm. He was a dedicated baseball fan, something he tried to pass down to all three of his children. His two sons liked the game, but Rosalie was the one who loved it and had sat with her father, on that very couch, countless times to watch the games with her dad––something they didn't get to do much anymore. When he noticed his daughter dressed up to go out, he added, "Don't be home too late and have fun."

"Thanks, Dad. Later, Mom."

The two girls walked down the steps toward the street and got into Vera's new car. The SUV was a present from her fiancée, who didn't blink once when she told him she wanted a car that would be suitable to drive kids around in. He made her best-friend incredibly happy and she was thrilled to be a part of their upcoming wedding.

Before Vera started the car she turned in her seat. "Look, I know you still haven't gotten over what Royce did to you. If a man ever cheated on me, well, I probably would stay away from men, too." She took Rosalie's hand into her own and continued, "But, it's been two years and I'm not saying this is the guy for you. I'm saying he's someone to have fun with. John says he's nice and I trust his judgement."

Rosalie sighed in resignation. "Okay, let's go bowling."

"Good!" Vera started the car and headed to Bowl-a-roll Lanes.

The girls found parking right away toward the front––a lucky break––and headed into the building. Vera held onto Rosalie's back pocket as they pushed themselves through the throng at the entrance. They made their way to the shoe counter where John and Rosalie's blind date waited. When Rosalie saw her set-up, she suddenly felt very self-conscious. Her date was tall, very handsome and dressed nicely. When he smiled at her, a dimple appeared in each cheek.

Rosalie leaned into him so she didn't have to speak too loudly. "Hi, I'm Rosalie." He thought she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

He in turn leaned down and introduced himself, "I'm Emmett, very nice to meet you." She thought he smelled great.

"Do you like to bowl?" Rosalie shouted over the crowd and gestured to the lanes. She immediately felt stupid; _of course he liked to bowl, that's why they were there_.

"Yes," he replied and nodded. Emmett internally berated himself; _nice one word answer, idiot._

The four of them stood in the slow-moving shoe-rental line. The women whispered and giggled with each other while the men made commentary on different sports.

After they exchanged their shoes and changed into the moist rentals, they waited at an empty table for their party to be called to a lane. Rosalie felt awkward and continued to make idle chatter with her friend.

Vera whispered into her ear, "Emmett's good looking, isn't he?"

"He is rather handsome." Rosalie whispered back.

"Then say something to him. Flirt a little."

"Like what?"

"Let him know you're interested. You're beautiful and smart, so you don't have to do much to get him to follow you around like a puppy dog."

"I don't want that."

"You know what I mean."

"No, I don't. If I'm all that and a bag of chips, then why didn't... " Before Rosalie could finish her sentence, Vera smacked her leg. "Ouch, that hurt!"

"Stop... you will be that idiot's biggest regret. You are the prize," she said sincerely.

Vera had always imagined what she would say to Royce if she ever saw him again. The only thing she could imagine was physical violence, though. He made her beautiful, smart, confident and kind friend feel small. Vera had never liked him while they dated, now she loathed him. She thought Emmett might be just what her friend needed. He was sweet and funny and normal. She just wanted her friend to have a good time with a nice guy while she was in town.

"Carpenter, party of four," was announced on the loud speaker and the group hurried out of their seats to claim their lane.

"So, Emmett," Vera called out, "I hear you're a good bowler."

"I'm decent." Emmett was being modest; he was great.

"Rosalie is pretty good, and can get quite competitive." Vera lightly hip-bumped her friend. Rosalie was very aware she had a tendency to become a bit extreme and hoped she could contain that side of her for the night.

John piped in, "Sounds like I'll be in last place again."

"Only because you let me win." Vera smiled at her fiancée. Every cell in her body knew he was the perfect man for her. He put his arm around her and she nuzzled into his chest.

They walked down to lane one. It was quieter at the end of bowling house. Rosalie realized this meant she would have to make conversation, but she promised to try, so she would.

Vera and John typed in their names first, leaving Rosalie and Emmett at the table while they stalled at the top of the lane.

"So, Emmett, I hear you're a Park Ranger," Rosalie stated. Vera had mentioned his job and she tried to think of where there was a forest in Rochester.

"Yes, I work at the Lighthouse."

"Oh, okay." She nodded her head, but found she was still puzzled. "What do you do there?"

"We maintain the grounds, mostly work with the public, giving tours and explaining the history to visitors."

"So you wrangle people, not bears," she joked.

Emmett couldn't help but laugh. "Sometimes I think the bears might be easier."

"They eat people."

"I think I could handle myself, I've had very good training." They were both smiling and starting to relax.

John walked up to the table and nodded to Emmett. "You're up." Vera sat down in the chair next to Rosalie.

Emmett picked up a sixteen pound ball and his face turned serious. Rosalie found herself intently watching him. He slowly approached the lane, his right arm swinging back, then forward. She watched the muscles in his forearm tense as he lofted the heavy ball almost halfway down the lane. Quickly, the ball rolled toward the pins. The clap of contact sounded like thunder and they all yielded to the blow.

"Strike!" Emmett called out while fist pumping, smiling widely, the dimples making their appearance again.

Rosalie was smiling herself, then felt an elbow in her side. "I knew you'd like him." Vera was grinning ear to ear. Rosalie ignored her and walked up to the ball return to retrieve her ten-pounder. She felt the pressure to do well after she was called out on being competitive. She steadied her thoughts, placed her herself just a bit to the left of the darts and went through the motions. She lay down a swift moving, perfectly centered ball.

"Strike!" she cried and started to do a little dance, but caught herself.

The game moved on and frames passed by quickly. John and Vera remained tied throughout the game, as did Rosalie and Emmett. Rosalie was having a great time joking and laughing, and finding she really liked Emmett. He was smart and handsome, but more importantly he had a great sense of humor.

At the halfway mark, John offered to buy a round of drinks. Vera insisted she go with him so she could help carry all the bottles back. Rosalie and Emmett sat down and started to taunt each.

"You're going down," Emmett said.

"Is that a fact?"

"I hope so. I'm actually kind of worried, you're good."

"Lot's of practice over the years. Growing up, bowling was always a fun family outing." Rosalie thought about all the Saturday afternoons spent on the lanes. She and her little brother's always had a good time. "Do you have any siblings?" she asked.

"I have five older brother's."

"Wow, that's a lot of boys in one house."

"Yes, it was––I was the youngest by several years, so my mom babied me a bit."

"Oh no, are you a Mama's boy?" Rosalie liked the way he spoke about his family.

"You bet, I love my mom." His smiled broadened when he mentioned his mother.

"You're from Tennessee, right? Do you visit her often?"

"Yes Ma'am, I am... and no, I don't get down there as much as I'd like. I never miss Thanksgiving though, she's the best cook around. John told me you are a student at Cornell."

"Yes... I'm working on my master's in mechanical engineering." Rosalie was proud of her accomplishments, especially in such a male dominated field.

"So you're really smart." Rosalie didn't know why the statement made her blush; she dipped her head and some of her blonde hair fell forward. Emmett reached out and tucked the hair behind her ear. Her skin was soft and warm against his fingers. "I like intelligent women," he continued.

Clinking beer bottles signaled the return of their friends and the game resumed only for Vera and John to each bowl gutter balls with each toss.

"Do we need to block the gutters for you two?" Rosalie asked sarcastically.

"Ha, ha," Vera replied sarcastically. Her fiancée looked like he wanted to consider the idea.

Rosalie and Emmett continued to bowl well, throwing a lot of strikes and spares. In the ninth frame, Emmett took his turn. After his first toss, three pins were left standing, including the split. He threw his hands over his face and stomped his foot realizing he may have just lost the game. When his ball returned, he launched it and knocked down two of the three pins.

Rosalie didn't want to waste the advantage she was just given. She relaxed her mind and threw a perfect pitch down the lane, earning a strike. She started to feel like she might win and could no longer contain herself, her bottom started to shake.

"Oh no," Vera called out. "She's doing her victory dance."

"Not so fast, we still have another frame to go." Emmett laughed. He liked watching her hips sway. If he thought he could get away with it, he would throw the game to see more of the dance.

Vera stepped up to the arrows and laid down a goose egg that wobbled slowly down toward the pins. She yelled out, "come on, come on," to the ball. Four pins went down. With her next throw she fell two more. John gutter balled his first toss and knocked down 2 pins on his second attempt.

Emmett wanted to bowl three strikes in a row for a final frame turkey. He steadied himself as much as he could, with the utmost care he aimed, but missed one pin that he cleaned up with a spare.

Rosalie marched to the lane, held her ball up as if she were going to pitch a fast ball in the World Series. She turned her head back to her friends and winked. The ball rolled as if it were on a rail toward the center of the triangle. She earned a strike and belted out, "STRIKE ONE!" She was feeling confident and waited impatiently for the ball return.

Vera yelled toward her, "You can do it, Rosie!"

She moved her feet into position and threw. The moment it left her fingers she knew it wouldn't be a strike, but no matter, she still won. Emmett was the first to high-five and congratulate her. They had started their evening late and only planned on staying for the one frame, but Rosalie didn't want the night to be over, no matter how sleepy she suddenly felt.

They cleaned up their area and returned the used shoes. Before they exited the alley, Emmett said, "Wait guys, hang on a second." He turned to Rosalie. "I would like to take you home––I drove John here, so my car is right out front."

Rosalie looked to her friend, who had a sly grin on her face and was not so subtly nodding her head. "Sure, I'd like that."

The two couples parted ways for the evening and walked toward their respected vehicles.

Emmett opened the passenger door of his Jeep for Rosalie. They drove back to her place in relative silence with the exception of her giving him directions to her house. When he pulled up to the curb in front of her home she turned to him and asked, "Why did you want to take me home?"

"I like you. I wanted to make sure you got home safe, and I wanted to walk you to the door." His dimpled smile returned. Rosalie thought Emmett made a perfect first impression.

"Thank you for the ride, I had a great time tonight." She reached for the door handle to let herself out and Emmett exited his side, too.

He walked her up the path to the door and before she had a chance to turn the knob he spoke. "I had a really great time, too. I think you're really great, and well, I've just said 'really great' twice, now three times in a row." Rosalie laughed. "You have a really great laugh, too. Oh man, I keep saying 'really great'!"

"I think you're really great, too. I'd like to have a really great time with you again." She held her hand out, palm up and asked, "Can I have your phone for a minute?" Emmett gave her his cell phone and she plugged her number into his address book, then handed it back.

"Okay, I'll call you." He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. She turned the knob and he took a few few steps down the front porch, then turned back. "How are you at miniature golf?"

She giggled. "Really great."

"Me too. It's a date."

* * *

**No update this evening - we're giving you a breather, but we've got a full docket tomorrow with Starshinedown and MrsTheKing.**

**In the meantime, if you need a fix - a few of these stories will be continued in multi-chapter forms, including Something Blue by Fngrdust and The Missing Link by SammieLynnsmom. Also, there's a new Emmett & Rosalie AH Story out by Theheartoflife1 and Hmonster4 (a FGB novella not included in 30 days) called A Player to Be Named Later. Lots of Emmett goodness out there ripe for the taking. **

**Have a great day!**


	50. Outtake by Starshinedown

**pen name**: starshinedown

**Title**: Little Sister

**rating**: M

**Summary**: Part of the _My Love Shall Ever Live Young_ extras... in the main story, Emmett mentions kicking Jasper's ass 'cause he'd caught him with Bella in the backseat at a high school football game.

**a/n**: Thanks to Pogurl and AccioBourbon for the pre-reading and feedback. Y'all rock. Hugs and kisses to HMonster, Accio, and HeartofLife for the Emmett epic-ness.

* * *

**Little Sister**

He'd come back to Forks from UDub to see the old team win the game that sent them to the playoffs, to cheer on his old teammates, and bask in nostalgia for a few moments. The game is long over, and the high school's parking lot rapidly approaching empty, when Emmett sees Jasper's crappy little hatchback.

The windows are just beginning to fog up, and with the hatchback's faint rocking, Emmett knows that someone is back there with him. Good ol' Jasper, folding his long, lanky-ass body into the backseat of the little car, with a girl, no less. He doesn't know how his friend does it; Emmett is claustrophobic just sitting in the tin can with wheels.

He shakes his head. Maybe it's Alice. She's had a crush on his buddy Jasper for years now; she could be avoiding her parents by not using her own car. The idea of little Alice banging some guy in the backseat of a car isn't appealing-is actually pissing him off as he thinks about it-but it's Alice and he knows she's aware of boys and social do's-and-don'ts. Better than his sister, who has zero experience with boys.

With a smirk, Emmett settles on righteous anger and a healthy does of violent mischief. He'll kick Jasper's ass for "taking advantage" of Alice (as if Alice the All-Knowing could be taken advantage of) and then they'll be the cute couple Alice has always wanted, and everything will be right in the world.

Flexing his fists, he prepares to have some fun at Jasper's expense. It isn't often he leaves the way wide open like this.

He's about three seconds from ripping open the door and embarrassing his friend when he gets a good look through the window at who is in the backseat with his old teammate. It isn't Alice. In that instant, he understands the phrase "to make the blood boil." Before, it had been something he thought was stupid-boiling blood would hurt, right? Pain equaling anger hadn't made sense.

He almost laughs, it's so ridiculous; he knows the reputation of Ice Queen that Bella has. That she'd be doing something she should never, ever, be doing, and in such a low place as the backseat, is unbelievable. But it _is_ Bella in the back. With Jasper between her legs. Bella's shirt is pushed up around her shoulders and she is all skin, and Emmett can see almost everything-including what Jasper is doing to his baby sister.

Seeing his sister almost completely naked in the seat wrenches his gut. He stumbles back several steps in shock. It couldn't be-it isn't-but it is. His piece of shit _best friend_ is going down on Emmett's baby sister. That dirty mother fucker.

Emmett wants, in that moment, a red-hot poker. First he'll use it to castrate Jasper, then he'll use it to gouge out his own eyes in an attempt to erase the memory of seeing Bella like that. He swore over her crib, gave his word, that he'd protect her and look out for her, and he's failed. Because of the guy he'd thought of as his brother from another mother.

Bella's voice carries out from the car, and Emmett knows that he can't barge in and interrupt. He can beat Jasper to a pulp whenever he wants, and he surely will, but Bella is the single most important person in his life after their mother, and nothing is worth her being hurt. If he does the wrong thing and she's very hurt, he's afraid she'll shut him out completely. He can't stand the thought of her not talking to him.

He walks away and hates himself for it. What he ought to be doing is breaking Jasper's face in the woods lining the parking lot.

At his parent's house, he folds himself into the porch swing and waits. He hopes revenge really is best cold. Or maybe lukewarm. He knows he won't wait long enough for it to get cold. The image of Bella, almost naked with her legs spread wide for Jasper, is seared into his mind and he will never, ever forget it. He lurches to the railing, and the chili dog he'd eaten comes back up onto Renee's flowers.

He's not sure how long he sits there, rocking pensively, getting angrier and angrier, but he's wound tight when Jasper's little hatchback trundles up their driveway and Bella slides out, looking pleased with herself. She blinks in surprise when she sees Emmett sitting on the porch, but she recovers quickly, and bounces up the steps to give him a big hug.

"Big brother! I saw you at the game, but you never said 'hi!' Did you have fun?"

"I did. It was a good game." Emmett can barely keep his voice even. But that's the deal: don't let Bella know anything is wrong. Get her inside. Get Jasper alone. So he bears it, and smiles down at her. "Jasper had a good game, so I'm taking him out for some guys-only time. You okay with that?"

She shrugs, looking blissfully unconcerned. "Sure. Why wouldn't I be?"

_Oh I don't know, _Emmett thinks_. Because girls get clingy when they start banging their boyfriends. _

Emmett arches an eyebrow. "Jasper's bringing you home from the football game. Usually that means-"

Bella huffs. "Don't be silly. It's just Jasper, brother bear. Go do your guy thing." She gives him another quick hug, and then darts inside.

Just Jasper? What the hell does his (former) buddy think, stringing his baby sis along like this? You don't do what they were doing and call your partner in crime 'just' anyone. White heat fills Emmett's eyes. It doesn't take him long to bound down the stairs and make it to Jasper, who's gotten out of the car, but made no move to tell Bella goodnight.

"Hey man," Jasper says, and holds out his fist in greeting.

Emmett's return fist bump is harder than necessary, and Jasper's eyes lower in confusion.

"Want to go out for a bit?" Emmett can't help the growl that accompanies his words, and he's glad to see that in addition to confusion, he now sees Jasper look worried.

"Sure?"

It's half answer, half question, but Emmett isn't answering, and instead he slides into the passenger seat and shuts the door with a slam.

"The usual place?"

Usually when they hang out, they go to a quiet spot in the woods where they can overlook a small ravine and just shoot the shit. Emmett doesn't want to go there, though. It's too special. Bringing Jasper there now will only pollute it.

"Nah. That's a bit of a drive tonight. What about the park out behind the bus barn?"

Jasper shrugs in agreement and points the tin can in the right direction. When they pull up to the park, which is hidden from view of the town by a row of thick manicured hedges and the fence that surrounds the school district's bus maintenance barn, Emmett launches himself out of the car and walks around to the driver's side. Jasper has the window down, so Emmett leans in, resting his forearms on the door, and gets in Jasper's face.

"I saw you in the parking lot tonight. With Bella in the back seat. We're going to have a talk."

"Emmett-" Jasper's face is white, and he has a classic 'oh shit!' expression.

It stoke's Emmett's anger high, and in the beat of his heart he's as enraged as he was standing there in the high school parking lot. There's no thought. He rips open the door and reaches into the car and wraps his hand around the closest part of Jasper that he can reach-his left bicep-and, powered by anger, he drags his friend out of his car and shoves him into the cracked asphalt and gravel. He kicks the door shut.

Emmett bends down and snatches Jasper up again, and it is like his friend isn't close to his own height, or a wiry lean kind of muscled. Jasper had parked close to the tree line along the back side of the park, so he hauls the now struggling Jasper into the woods.

He has every intention of putting Jasper into the hospital. The guy was his friend. His cousin had been crushing on him for years. And what does the jackass do? Take Bella, Emmett's baby sister and Alice's best friend, in the fucking back seat in the high school parking lot.

Bella is worth so much more. Alice deserves better. Their friendship should've been stronger than this.

He whips Jasper around and all but tosses him into a thick fir tree. Emmett is viciously gratified to see little bits of blood where Jasper's palms and forearms had hit the cracked asphalt. He hopes the tree's bark bites into his back.

Jasper opens his mouth and starts to say something, but his eyes lock on Emmett's, and whatever it is he sees there-rage? hatred? betrayal? disappointment? There's so much Emmett is feeling, it could be anything-and he closes his mouth, just nodding once, accepting the inevitable punishment.

Emmett is already swinging. He feels Jasper's nose and cheek under his fist, and hears a snap, and knows that at the very least, the boy's nose is broken. He whips his arm back for a second swing, and the sight of the other boy, sagging against the tree and bleeding, is satisfying, but not enough. Nothing will be enough for what he'd seen tonight, for the casual disregard his friend had shown Bella when he'd brought her home _after._

Jasper doesn't fight back, and Emmett takes it as tacit agreement that he'd fucked up and won't repeat the offense. When he's finished venting his rage on the friend he'd brought into his home and into the lives of his family, when he's punished him for the utter betrayal, he scoops the unresisting form up into his arms and carries him to the backseat, where Jasper's blood drips onto the cloth upholstery and, Emmett hopes, wipes out the stains of any other fluids that might be there.

He drives Jasper to the hospital. Looking in the review mirror as they pull into Forks General, he glares at the swollen face he sees. Jasper's eyes haven't swollen completely shut, yet, and Emmett is pretty sure Jasper can see him. "Not a word to Bella about this," he warns. "You can tell Uncle Carlisle whatever you want, I'll deal with that fallout if I have to, but not.. to my little sister. We clear?"

Jasper's nod is short, but definitive.

Emmett cradles his friend against his chest as he carries him into the emergency room, and it's when harsh florescent hospital lights illuminate them that he sees all the damage that he's done, and he begins to regret giving into his anger.

Charlie and Carlisle have been telling him for years that at his size, with his remarkable strength, he can't loose control of his temper, but that's exactly what he's done. The nurses swarm over them, Jasper is placed on a gurney, and they work quickly to take care of him. The vestiages of Emmett's fury are gone, now, as he assess Jasper's injuries. Both eyes are swollen shut, nose obviously broken, left cheekbone a misshapen swollen mass, jaw twisted oddly. Emmett winces. He remembers how _that_ hit felt. Jasper's holding his left arm at a weird angle, and Emmett realizes it's probably dislocated; he has a vague memory, through the haze of anger, of feeling the shoulder give. Bruising is already starting to show up, and it's painfully clear that along with the obvious injuries Jasper is going to be a patchwork of black bruises soon.

Christ. Had _he_ done that? To his friend?

Emmett's stomach heaves, but he's frozen to the spot, his feet planted firmly on the linoleum floor. He wants to look away, but he can't because that's his friend they're rushing to the back, and he's the one who hurt him. Uncle Carlisle comes up to him, is talking, but it sounds like he's speaking through water, his words indistinct and distorted. Emmett can't look at him anyway because he's too busy tracking the gurney as it's wheeled to the back. Where the surgical rooms are.

He focuses on his immediate surroundings in time to see Uncle Carlisle examining his hands, which are bruised, scrapped, and bloody at the knuckles.

"My office," Carlisle snaps, his expression grim.

He can only nod dumbly in response.

He hopes Jasper doesn't die, he isn't permanently hurt, and that his friend's baseball scholarship at UDub isn't ruined by his injuries. He hopes he's forgiven for acting like he's nothing better than a thug.

In his uncle's office, he drops into a chair and rests his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands.

"_Fuck_."


	51. Outtake from MrsTheKing

**Name: Mrs. The King**

**Title: Sick Puppy**

**Rating: M**

**Pairing: Emmett and Edward (brotherhood pairing)**

**Summary: This drabble takes place pre-Poughkeepsie, after the boys are out of their foster home. Emmett is at a club and being homeless Edward's brother changes the outcome of his evening.**

**0x0x00x0x0x0x0x0x0x0x00x0x0**

It wasn't his concern—it shouldn't be, anyway. Emmett was here tonight to show his face with a smile. Effortless. One of his best guys was killed last night. It was a message, but from who, he wasn't yet sure.

He had to make it known that it didn't effect him at-fucking-all. So, he grinned at the ladies and eye-fucked the whores. He shook hands and bought drinks for all the assholes that expected as much.

He sat at the bar to give himself a small bubble of privacy from the crowd at the club. He glared at his reflection in the mirror behind the bartender. He was dressed like the fine fucking pimp he was—not a more stylish motherfucker around. Looking in his own eyes, he saw how hard they were. The sight unnerved him, so he tilted the brim of his gangster hat down to cover his baby blues.

Emmett focused on the ice cubes melting in his drink. It was amazing that anything at all could melt in this weather, but pack enough hot meat in a room and everything steams up. He smiled as he thought of hot meat, the curve of his lips quickly mirroring the bend in his glass.

The word "hobo" snaked its way through the smoke and blurry crowd to hit Emmett right between the eyes. He focused on the words around him until he heard it again and matched the lips with the syllables. The man's conversation became clearer now that Emmett was paying attention.

"So, on my way in here, there is a goddamn hobo on the side walk. I decide to get my picture with him. I even promised him a dollar!" The tall bar patron was regaling his friends with what he thought was a hilarious tale. His cell phone screen seemed enormous as he showed off his prize of a conversation starter.

The man had his arm around Emmett's homeless brother Edward in a snapshot that was now set as his wallpaper.

Emmett clicked his tongue, and Mouse, his fateful bodyguard, was instantly at his side. "Boss?"

"Go outside and get my brother in my Jeep. Make sure he doesn't see anything." Emmett took a slow sip of his drink, making sure to inhale an ice cube and hold it in his teeth.

Mouse knew then there would be a murder. He nodded his head and left, already working out the details that would need to be handled once Emmett administered the justice he saw fit.

_Sorry, big guy._

Emmett set his drink down and waved off the bartender's attempt to refill it. He got to his feet and pushed his way through the people to confront the tall offender.

One of the man's friends was chuckling about the Facebook comments he would add, including "Brian and his future employer."

Emmett walked right into Brian's personal space, his nose even with the man's chin. When Brian opened his mouth to protest, Emmett spit the melting ice cube into his throat. The man began choking immediately. Emmett slapped him hard on the back and the cube shot out, landing on the floor nearby.

Brian came up angry and ready for a fight. His friends surrounded Emmett, finally recognizing the events for the threat that they were.

"What the fuck, dude?" Brian massaged his throat and looked Emmett up and down.

It was possible Brain and his friends had no idea who Emmett was. They hadn't a clue that he'd killed so many people this week, his douchebags were running out of places to put the fresh bodies.

Emmett's associates were coming closer, ready for a fight. None of them looked worried; Brian and his friends were obviously amateurs. Emmett shook his head so they wouldn't come any closer.

This was personal. This was about Edward. Emmett would handle it himself.

"You think it's funny to taunt people?" He tilted his head, waiting for an answer.

The man would never be able to give one that would save his life. Emmett watched as Brian's machismo began to melt. It was the tone of his voice that did it, Emmett knew. The way he held his body that let other guys know they were in crazy, unimaginable danger.

Brian started back peddling and unintentionally making things worse for himself. "No, naw, I don't make fun of people—it was just this bum outside. No offense."

Emmett took his hat off and set it on the bar. Then he removed his good watch and placed it by the brim. He unbuttoned his collar and loosened his tie.

"Go outside, Brian." Emmett gestured to the side exit.

"Seriously, I'm not going outside. What? Are we in a bad Western or something?" Brian took another step away from Emmett.

One of the his friends tried to speak on his behalf. "Look, Brian's a lover, not a fighter. Let's relax and have a good night." The man put a steadying hand on Emmett's chest.

Emmett had been drinking all night, but he was still quick. He locked the friend's arm and torqued it just enough to snap the bone. He had intended to take Brian outside to administer his beating, but Emmett's anger changed his decision.

The club quickly became a drunk, stupid war. Emmett's men were far deadlier and more efficient then Brian and his stupid friends. As Emmett felt his blood boil with the adrenaline of the fight, he brought a chair above his head. His target was Brain's head.

Edward walked in and stood in the entry with Mouse looming behind him.

His brother registered the chaos, and Emmett tossed the chair aside as soon as they made eye contact. Edward's "Jesus eyes" were pleading with him to be a better person.

Emmett wiped the blood on his pants and signaled to his assholes to stop their destruction. When he was sure his orders had been followed, he walked to Edward and held out his arm.

Edward wrapped his forearm until his tattoo touched Emmett's. "I'm sorry I showed up here."

"Never be sorry. You're my brother. Wherever I am, you can be. I just don't like for you to have to see me like this. Let's go outside." Emmett shot Mouse a dirty look, but the gangster looked unrepentant.

Edward hung his head and followed. Emmett was betting the times he found his brother sleeping at the train station were times Edward had not wanted to be found either.

There were little flecks of snow falling as the brothers made their way back to Emmett's Jeep.

They stood together in silence. Emmett gave Edward time to form his thoughts. He could stand forever with his brother, even if they said nothing.

A small whimper came from inside Edward's jacket. Emmett raised his eyebrow in question. Edward got an excited twinkle in his eyes and pulled out a small, wiry looking pup from his inside pocket.

"I found this little guy behind the Stop n' Shop." Edward pet the puppy softly on the head. "His mom was nearby, but she didn't make it."

The dog wiggled until Edward let it curl up for warmth on his chest.

"Well, that little fucking thing is cute." Emmett rubbed its head with his knuckle.

"I came to you because Jasper can't have pets in the church, and I think he is too small to be outside with me—it's getting cold." Edward held the dog out to Emmett.

"No way in Hell. I'm not tit-feeding a baby dog." Emmett held out his palms to ward off the adorableness. There were still spatters of blood on his skin.

Edward looked devastated. "Em, I'm not sure what to do. He needs to be fed, and probably needs a vet. I mean…" his voice got quiet, "I don't have a place for him."

It was the shame of the homelessness speaking. Emmett saw an opportunity, "Listen, I'll set you up in a house, you can have this dog, I'll make sure you have everything you need."

Edward shook his head and set the puppy down at his feet. "I don't take charity and I shouldn't have imposed on you."

The dog tried to climb up Edward's shoes. His brother looked like he was losing his best friend. He bent down and set the dog further away and started backing up into the night. The snow became a curtain that closed behind Edward as he quietly walked away.

The puppy started looking for warmth and flopped in the direction of Emmett's shoes.

"Fuck." He took out his Glock and bent down. He aimed the gun at the dog's little head.

The pup licked the metal.

"Ah, shit." Emmett picked up the dog and held him like a football as he walked to the door. All his bastards were waiting for him just inside. "If any of you say one damn word about this fucking puppy, I will kill your balls."

To their credit, not one said a word, but they were all snickering and gesturing to each other.

"Mouse, find me a vet." Emmett tried to set the dog down, but it cuddled closer to him. He sighed with resignation and let it nuzzle his neck.

"Boss, it's 3:30 in the morning."

Emmett glared. "Well, you better find me a vet's house, then."

Without another word, Mouse pulled out his cell phone and started browsing.

Emmett rubbed his forehead. He was about to use his considerable evil to threaten a vet to take this dog for the rest of it's fucking long life or else.

Only Edward could make Emmett stop a massacre to save a sickly-assed puppy.

****  
Thanks to shalu for the beta services and to accio_bourbon , theheartoflife, and hmonster4 the awesome oppurtunity to love on Emmett for a little while.


	52. Drabble by Dahlia Black

**Pen Name:** Dahlia Black

**Title: ** The Aftermath

**Rating:** M-ish

**A/N: **This is a tiny little outtake that I wrote for my gorgeous and talented co-author on the one shot "Brightest Hour", **Chele681** on her birthday. If you like it, you should head on over to her profile and read her story, **Hard as a Rock**, which is a prequel to this story and a fantastic read.

* * *

"Emm." Jake's voice startled me out of my focused non-concentration. I considered myself lucky that I had gotten a good look at Mexico on the trip down, or I might have felt guilty for letting the landscape pass me blindly by on the way home.

"Mmm," I hummed in response, my thoughts still not entirely present.

"Listen." Jake sounded hesitant and serious - both of which made tiny little alarm bells go off in my head. "I know I'm probably breaking some unwritten dude-code by talking about this, but I figure we've already broken some unwritten dude-code this week."

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. _Oh. That. Like I could forget._

"Have you ever..." Jake trailed off, leaving me to fill in the big awkward blank.

"Participated in a threeway with my best friend and a gorgeous Latina? No." I decided being blunt was the way to go here.

Jake didn't take his eyes off the road but I knew he was glaring. I never failed to take pleasure in torturing him, even if it was somewhat at my own expense.

"Thanks for clearing that up, dipshit, but I wasn't exactly referring to that."

"Dude, just because we had group sex doesn't mean I can read your mind now. Spit it out."

A short pause. "That's what he said," we announced in unison and started laughing and grunting like the frat boys we were.

The tension seemed to be broken, so Jake pushed forward. "A guy. Have you ever been with a guy before?"

I felt a familiar lump rise in my throat at the thought of _him_. I wondered what would happen to that lump if I ever spoke of him aloud. "Yup," I whispered, leaning my head back against the seat and letting the warm spring air tickle my face as it rushed in the car.

Jake didn't probe any further. I knew he wasn't judging, and I knew our friendship remained intact, but somehow, having him know that tiny detail, made the lump seem easier to deal with.

After a mile or two of listening to the sound of the of the Mexican breeze rattle the wheelcaps on Thumper, and seeing messy blonde hair and pouty lips prance around in my mind, I managed to say the name that I hadn't spoken aloud in two years.

"Jasper. His name was Jasper."


	53. Drabble from TiffaniNichole

**Name: tiffaninichole**

**Title: Guilty**

**I've had this story idea for a while, but due to time constraints, am unable to write a full fic. So this is basically the condensed version of a 15+ chapter story turned into a 300+ word drabble *snickers***

**As always, coachlady1 beta'd and Handsandfingers pre-read. They're my lovers.**

**Hope you guys enjoy!**

**xxxxxxxxxx**

"Wow, you look... _human_."

It was the first time I'd ever seen his face—his _whole_ face. He was incredibly handsome, more handsome than I had imagined.

He rolled his eyes and grumbled as he plopped down on the couch and slumped into its plush cushions. A man of few words, as always.

I hadn't even expected him to shave, figuring he'd just kick me out. He usually did when I said something that he didn't like. Imagine my surprise when he'd stomped to his bathroom and trudged back out a while later with a clean-shaven face.

I wanted to run my fingers over that smooth skin, touch the remnants of those dimples that were evidence of happier times. But I wouldn't push him. Not until he was ready.

I knew he wasn't ready... he still wore his ring.

But I'd wait forever for him. He knew that.

He leaned forward, scrubbed his palms over his face. "I... I know what they say about me."

I wanted to reach out, touch him, comfort him. But it was too soon. Three years and it was still too soon. I settled on scooting closer, until my knee grazed his. "What they say doesn't matter."

"What if it was true?" He turned to me, eyes tight and pained.

I wanted to take away the hurt. I'd do anything, even bring her back if I could.

I'd heard the rumors—everyone in town had heard them. And I'd always known that his being guilty could be a possibility... but even that couldn't scare me away. Nothing could.

He turned away from me, hung his head until his chin dug into his chest. "I did it. They took my Rosie... and I killed them."

My eyes filled with tears... for him, for her, for their pain—_my_ pain. But I didn't say a word—they weren't enough to heal the broken man beside me. No longer able to refrain, my arm slowly reached out and wrapped around his withering shoulders.

He didn't pull away.

We sat in silence, words too inadequate to convey our thoughts.

It was the first time he didn't ask me to leave. The first time he'd let me hold him.

It was a start. I'd take anything he gave me.


	54. One Shot by DennyCullenLutz

**Author: Dennycullenlutz **

**Title: Awakening of a New Life**

**Rating: **T

**Pairing: **Emmett & Rosalie

**Summary: **Emmett McCarty had a great human family that loved him dearly but his life turned upside down on a hunting trip.

**A/N: **Hope you guys enjoy my little story. I am really happy with it. I want to thank my first readers Nyvia and Marian. Thanks babes for all the encouragement and support. And to my Betas Angel_eyes1_uk & Sarahsumbrella from Project Team Beta who helped me a lot for this to look pretty. Thanks guys!

* * *

_Tennessee Van Buren Hunting Trip__, 1935_

"Alistair!" Ma yelled at us from the front porch. "Don't let your brothers wander around the mountains alone! You are responsible for them if something happens!"

We continued to pack our camping gear and other things on the back of Pa's Chevy truck. Bryson rolled his eyes and I laughed back at him - he always rolled his eyes at Ma every time we left the house to go hunting and she never noticed. Alistair walked past by Bryson, smacking him hard, before moving on to slap the back of my head.

"Stop laughing, Emmett. You don't want Pa to take the truck's keys away from us, do ya?" Alistair said walking toward the porch to kiss Ma goodbye.

"Bryson, be careful!" she said again, using her concerned tone of voice that made our hearts shrink.

_Again? Seriously, Ma, you need to stop worrying,_ I thought. I hopped on the truck to secure our gear and weapons using the straps Pa had lent us.

Looking back at the commotion behind me, my Ma, six more brothers and my two sisters were clinging to her skirt, waving goodbye to us with their little hands. Behind them was our father, Scott McCarty.

"Susan, let's go back inside. The boys need to go."

My mom nodded hesitantly and turned around slightly, before stopping to shout something else at me.

"And you, Emmett McCarty! Remember to wear your shotgun strap. You never know how bears are going to react, and I know you never wear it."

I smiled widely and hopped off the back of the truck, walking straight to her. I threw my huge arms around my Ma and kissed her cheek soundly several times.

"I know, Ma, but you worry too much about me. We're going to be fine. And it's only for the weekend; we need to come back on Sunday evening. Railroads don't build themselves, don't they?" I kissed her again and walked back to the truck, slapping the fender of the truck to signal to my brothers that it was time to go. I waved goodbye to my family, the kids running behind the truck.

"Emm, bring us the bear's teeth! Emm, bring me flowers!" the kids yelled, laughing and running behind the truck.

"See you on Monday! And I don't need to use the strap, Ma! I yelled then laughed, watching them stopping at the front fence when Pa called all of them back inside the house.

Two hours later, we had finally arrived to our favorite camping site in Van Buren, Tennessee. It was a really big open field with tall, leafy trees scattered here and there. The vegetation was always green and the air humid - just the perfect spot for hunting all kind of animals.

After we unloaded the truck, my brothers set the bonfire and opened the tents we were going to sleep in. The sun shined brightly and the wind was perfect. We immediately set about preparing our hunting gear and our weapons. Every single one of us was eager to get started.

Alistair was interested mainly in hunting deer and boar, Bryson in turkeys and all types of big birds. I really didn't understand his fascination with it because, seriously…who was interested in birds? My brother was the only person alive that did. Me? I was obsessed with black and grizzly bears. I had two enormous bear skins on the walls in my room, and Ma had made a huge quilt for the kids the last time I went hunting.

"Alistair, are you hungry?" Bryson asked him, eagerly digging into the pack filled with our food supply. My brothers ate like animals when Ma wasn't around to tell them to show some manners.

"Sure am." Alistair answered back. I turned around to look at them both.

"Hey, what about me? You're not going to ask me if I'm hungry?" I whined and threw a few stones in Bryson's direction, hitting him on the chest.

Alistair laughed, shaking his head. "When is little Emmy not hungry?" The three of us started to laugh even harder.

After looking for a few thin wooden sticks to cook our sausages, Bryson placed them over the fire then went to bathe in the river not so far away from our camp with Alistair.

"Want to join us, knuckle head? Water is fine!" Bryson yelled at me, splashing Alistair when he jumped into the water.

"No! I want to take a nap. Go ahead - I can join you guys later." I said lazily, tipping my hat.

That was my first mistake.

I was on my back, drifting off to dreamland when I felt a sharp and intense pain on my arm that made me yell at the top of my lungs.

Above me? A big, angry grizzly bear.

"Holy shit," I muttered, unable to move my injured arm and my body stiff in fear. I stared at the open wound, blood gushing from it.

_You're going to be fine, Emmett. You just need to stay still until the bear moves away from you,_ I thought, as a sharp pain shot up my left arm, making me clench my teeth tightly.

I saw the huge black bear out of the corner of my eye, knowing immediately that I was doomed. The bear was hungry and needed to feed its cubs.

Tightening my grip on the shotgun, I used it to push myself up and walk to a fallen tree trunk.

_I need to climb over it, _I thought, as a wild plan ran through my head. My vision was starting to blur because of the blood loss, and I knew I had to move quickly.

Looking for a branch I could use as leverage, I found one and took a tight hold of it; I pulled myself up, huffing and groaning as the pain on my arm increased intently. My foot couldn't get a grip on the rough bark, making me stumble but I rolled over the tree and landed on my back on the other side with a loud thud.

"Damn! It hurts!" I shouted and stood up, pushing myself off the ground. The pain was unbearable and the blood kept running down my arm like a river.

Frantically, I looked for my shotgun and saw that it was on the other side of the fallen tree.

"No way!" The shotgun was lying almost twenty feet away from me, behind the massive paws of the bear. I mentally slapped myself for not wearing the strap, as Ma had told me to.

_These things happen when you act like a rebel, Emmett._ That's what Ma always said to me.

No, no, no. This shouldn't be happening.

I was the hunter...not the prey. I shook my head in frustration, and saw that the only way out of this mess was to make a run toward the river, so that my brother could kill the animal and take me home, where I was sure Ma could treat my injuries.

I backed away slowly, getting away from the bear until it was safe to sprint to my brothers.

The bear roared as it watch me moving, before running toward me, in full attack mode. I ran as fast as I could, tripping over bushes and branches. The wound on my arm was spilling blood and the strenuous exercise was taking its toll on me. My entire body stung and my lungs burned inside my chest, making me feel light-headed.

And then the inevitable happened.

I fell to the ground when the bear came at me again. His paws came down, raking across my chest and thighs.

I heard screams and it only took me a moment to realize that they were mine.

"Alistair! Bryson!" I yelled, but my brothers didn't hear me. None of them could help me now.

Forcing my eyes open, I looked toward the bear and knew I was a dead man.

I felt defeated, while I prayed and cried.

_Holy Mary, get it away from me! No more bears, no more bears._ I pleaded, again and again.

_Please God, don't let my Ma suffer, I ask your forgiveness for being such an ungrateful son and a rebel_. I was sure God didn't want a brat like me in Heaven.

Terrible sounds filled the clearing and everything around me - I could not decipher where they were coming from.

Suddenly, I heard inhuman snarls and savage growls, an awful tearing noise and a menacing roar. The fight lasted for about a minute, there was a desperate groan, and then silence.

Dead. I was definitely dead.

I opened one eye, and the most unbelievable thing happened.

I saw an angel.

My angel.

She was heavenly, and stunningly beautiful. Her golden hair fell around a dazzling pale face, with perfect, shiny white skin, golden eyes, and she had the prettiest pouty pink lips I'd ever seen.

Her lips…those were just ready to be kissed.

She gazed at me with her concerned eyes, and I knew right then and there, that God had sent her to take me directly to Heaven.

Her eyes flickered back to the bear, but I couldn't see where it was. I looked back to her face then her lips pulled back in a snarl, and a vicious sound echoed through the clearing.

My eyes closed involuntarily because of the unbearable pain. The last ounce of strength I had slipped away and I lost consciousness.

When I woke up, I was in the angel's arms. They were hard, and ice cold against my skin.

I shuddered and her frown deepened. Looking at her face more closely, she was even more beautiful close up. Her eyes were soft and deep, and underneath there were soft purple shadows, which stood out in contrast to her ivory skin. Her hair was the color of pure gold, and she glowed under the sun light; it was as if a faint light was all around her. Of course there was - she was an angel.

Her flawless lips pulled back in a smile, and it was the sun shining after a storm, I was not afraid to die anymore.

Then her dazzling face lit up in bright determination. I couldn't feel much pain now. I didn't care – I just wanted her to stay with me.

_My angel_, I thought.

She moved and it felt like flying. I was still in her arms and the forest was rushing by me.

I gazed up to the angel's face. Her lips were pressed in a thin line and her eyes were locked in front of us - she looked like she was in pain. I tried to keep my heavy eyelids open but I was fighting a losing battle.

The angel's sweet face was slipping away.

_"No, no, no, Angel...don't leave me."_ I kept fighting unconsciousness, and tried to fend off death. I wasn't ready to die.

Then everything went black.

I could hear people talking around me. Muffled voices filled the place we were, but I couldn't make out a word they spoke. I thought of my Angel, and I began to panic thinking that by now, I should be facing my judgment before God. I couldn't or wouldn't open my eyes; maybe it was because I hadn't earned the merit of facing God in all his glory.

I was wrong.

When I dared to open one eye she was there, standing a few feet away from me. She was talking to a tall, blond man oat the other side of the room. He must be God…I was going to face my maker. He definitely must be God.

_I was going to face him._

Opening my mouth, I tried to get their attention. "God...I ask forgiveness...and...your kind...mercy." I managed to say, through clenched teeth.

Every ounce of strength I had, left my body after I forced out that sentence.

I felt my body lifted and then placed on the floor. God's hands were like icicles against my skin and I shivered.

His hands were so cold that his touch burned making my body convulse and jump involuntarily. I began to thrash around the floor and someone held my arms and torso down, while another set of ice-cold hands held my head in place. Another set of hands had come along at some point and held down my legs, too.

It was purely and simply torture. _This must be a punishment for all my sins._ I thought, as a sharp pain coming from my left shoulder made its way through my body.

"Carlisle!" she yelled. "Carlisle, his heart stopped!" the Angel cried in a panic.

I heard footsteps approaching, and then God spoke. His voice was stern but calm at the same time as he spoke to her. "I know. This is how it has to happen. In a day or so he will wake."

The Angel sighed in relief and I heard her speak to me for the first time. "Don't worry, you will be fine soon. Just hold on tight, I promise I will stay here by your side until it's over."

I could hear her making promises, but the pain wasn't going away. I never believed death could be so painful. I threw my head back in agony and someone grabbed my hand.

I was sure about one thing - I had fallen and been sent to burn in Hell's flames. I screamed at the top of my lungs, as I felt flames surround my body. I even had a brimstone taste in my mouth. Hell was goddamn awful! Worst than I'd ever imagined. The burning sensation kept increasing in intensity and I started to cry, whimper, beg, pray, and above all I screamed.

"Help me. It burns!"

Then without warning, the pain and the burning ceased completely. I thought God was being merciful, compassionate and clement to me and had offered me a reprieve from Hell.

Opening my eyes, I found that I was lying on my back, my head rested on a soft pillow, with my body on a wood floor. The bright light made my eyes hurt, making me close them tight again. I felt different, and then opened my eyes once more.

The image in front of me was stunningly clear, as if all my life I had seen my world through a dirty glass and now someone had cleaned it for me. I could see a tiny hole in the wall in front of me. Narrowing my eyes again, I could even see the termites around the hole!

_Holy sh...Mother of God._

I sat up and took a look at my hands and body. Somebody had dressed me, using new clothing that didn't fit me too well. I remembered that something had happened to me, and I tore the buttons open to see my chest and saw that there were no marks or wounds. The room around me was fully decorated in pure white. Paintings hung from the walls, but nothing was religious.

I kicked myself and shook my head. _Obviously, you brat! There wouldn't be need to have pictures of Mary, God and Jesus on Heaven's walls!_

I moved to turned to my right and I froze. I saw her...my Angel - the one and only.

She was real, tangible flesh. Her blonde hair was exquisite and her scent... her scent drove me crazy! I was trying to focus my mind on my surroundings, on my new clear state but her scent was burning my nostrils and making me go to her feet and let her do what she wanted with me. I felt like before her, my life had no meaning and now that I knew her, she was the main reason I had to stay at her side.

I looked at her and smiled slightly, she had her eyes closed and her back against the back of a chair. I didn't want to interrupt the angel's sleep. I tried to move silently but instead I moved rather quickly, tripping on a table nearby and smashing it into little pieces, which scattered over the neat, clean floor.

I sighed heavily and sat on the floor, my face buried in my huge hands.

"What is this place? Where am I?" I muttered, waiting for the sweet Angel to wake up so I could ask her all those questions that I didn't have answers for.

The angel opened her eyes and smiled, taking a few steps toward me. She reached for my hand, but I moved it back slightly and she backed away.

"This is our house." She said in a whisper back voice. I was a bit confused and lost by the Angel's words.

"Our house? Who else lives here with you, Angel?" I lifted my head to look at the beautiful cherubim in front of me, and smiled widely. "Oh, I get it! This is the house for the new arrivals in Heaven, isn't it? I have to confess that I'd never imagined Heaven to look like this." I said, looking around me like a kid on a fairground.

She giggled softly and turned to look at me. "Our house is about three hundred miles from where you were attacked by the bear. Assuming you remember the bear." She said, sitting beside me. She moved forward again and gently put a hand on my arm.

My head snapped to look back at the Angel when she mentioned the bear attack. "Yeah, of course I remember the..." I frowned and stopped talking, wrapping both of my hands over my throat. I tried to swallow but my throat was so sore and dry, and the burning sensation I felt was so intense, that I began to feel anxious and afraid, looking around the room.

The Angel smiled and I turned to fix her eyes on mine. "I'm far from being an angel. My name is Rosalie. You were dying - I saved you. I live here with my family, my adoptive parents, Carlisle and Esme Cullen, and my brother, Edward. We're vampires. That feeling of burning in your throat is thirst - we eat animals." Rosalie said, as I furrowed my brows in total shock.

I stood up and headed for the window, before the Angel grabbed my shoulders and pushed me back with so much force that I crashed on a nearby wall.

"What's wrong with me? Tell me, Angel." I whispered, afraid to hear her response.

"Come on, I'll help you catch something to eat, and then I'll answer any other questions you have," Rosalie said, extending her hand toward me.

My head was going to explode. I was so confused that I was starting to feel dizzy. I took a deep breath and listened to the Angel's words.

"What's a vampire? And where are the others?" I asked, and looked at Rosalie, my Angel, not daring to take my eyes from her. "Hungry? Animals?" I tried to swallow again, but the more I tried, the more it burned.

Hesitantly, I moved forward and took Rosalie's hand in mine. I didn't know why, but I knew I could trust her. When she slid her hand in mine, I felt like I'd been struck by lightning. Mysterious Rosalie dazzled me by her very presence.

She smiled. "It's okay, just relax. You're a thousand times faster and stronger than they are," she said. _Relax? How could I relax when my throat is almost burning from the inside out?_ I thought, narrowing my eyes at Rosalie.

Sliding the door open, she pulled me out of the window with her. I yelped as I jumped and closed my eyes, expecting to at least to break my foot. Once I opened them, I saw that I had landed on my feet and I was perfectly fine on the ground.

"How did I…? How did you…?" This was just too much for me, I was about to barrage her with my second round of questions when Rosalie started to run…and fast!

I stumbled a few times, but kept up with Rosalie's strides, never letting go of her hand. I was afraid if I did... she would just vanish into the woods.

"There are no people around here for miles, so stay with me and we'll find you something to eat." With my hand in hers, she started running again. She knew it wouldn't take long for me to realize my potential and keep up with her.

"Okay, just stop thinking now!" Rosalie cried, putting on a burst of speed. "Just feel it!"

That was definitely a challenge. I smirked and pushed myself to run faster, feeling the wind on my skin and in my hair. I felt different. Able to run so quickly that when the time to stop came, I crashed into a tree trunk, making it almost snap into two pieces. I thought I would be hurt, but I wasn't- not a single scratch.

I shook my head, stood up and brushed my clothing off with both hands. "Thanks for telling me how to stop, Rosie." I chuckled and she turned to look at me in complete shock.

"What did you call me?" She asked, taking a few steps forward, a glimmer of fear struck me, and I instinctively took a step back.

"Uh…errmm…Rosie?" I stuttered, mentally slapping myself because I had repeated something that made her mad.

The corner of her lips raised a little and she crossed her arms over her chest. "I think I can get used to that nickname." She ran and had total faith that I would catch up with her. Rosalie sniffed the air and ran again, running toward a group of deer. "Smell them?" she called over her shoulder.

I shook my head. "Smell what?" Sniffing the air, just like my dog Tristan did when he was looking for something, I caught a smell but couldn't identify what it was. As the burn in my throat intensified, I knew that for sure that it was my food source.

"It's just a deer, don't worry," Rosalie said. "Trust your instincts," she encouraged me. Then I ran, and never let go of my Angel's hand.


	55. One Shot by DetroitAngel

**Penname**: DetroitAngel

**Title**: Unforseen Difficulties

**AN**: Written for the 30 Days of Emmett movement that begs us, why can't Emmett get more love,

adventure, and story time!

As always, my muse and beta is mopstyle. I am eternally grateful for all that you give to me**.**

Thanks and spanks to my pre-reader bellasexecutioner.

I do believe this will be a multichapter story,

but as for now its rated T.

* * *

It was turning out to be one of those days. You know, the kind of day that you think is going to be great. The sun was shining and life's little dramas seemed to be in a lull, but I tripped over the rug in the middle of my room that has never given me a problem in the few years that I've had it. I opened the door to the cabinet above the toilet and the deodorant and razor fell in the pot, with the seat still up, of course. My contacts felt like tiny rocks were embedded in my eyes, so I opted out and settled for the frame-less glasses that are completely inconvenient when it comes to my job, constantly having to adjust them throughout the day. I used the last coffee filter yesterday and bought the wrong size to replace them. When I used one anyway, watered down coffee pooled all around the cheap old machine and then there's barely enough for one full cup. Of course, I burnt my tongue on that first sip.

At that point I had only been awake for an hour and fifteen minutes. What I really wanted to do was accept defeat and go back to bed, but I was not willing to let my whole day go to shit.

I gripped the edge of the counter and pressed my forehead into the cool Formica. Stealing myself a fleeting moment to collect enough patience to continue on with my day, I remembered that my favorite client, and best friend since I was eight, had scheduled an appointment that should take up the entire evening. I thought it was odd that he hadn't called me to set the appointment himself, but I was happy when I saw the name Hale in my appointment book blocking out the second half of my shift.

The tattoo shop that I worked in and managed had been consistently busy for the past few months. I couldn't wait to get back to work on Jasper's back piece because all this flash art bullshit that every Tom, Dick and Mary wanted permanently etched into their skin was really starting to grate on my nerves. Don't get me wrong, flash art is the bread and butter for any tattoo artist, but I was jonesing to create an original composition and individuals with insight and a creatively open mind have been few and far between.

Jasper was the man. Seriously. He and I were thicker than thieves until he went off to college. We spent every day together from elementary school through high school and now, whenever he gets the chance to visit, we just fall back into sync like no time has passed at all. We had some sort of symbiosis. I could literally feel something shift in the room whenever we were near each other. It has always been comforting to me. In my entire life I had never felt such an inert connection to any other person. We were meant to find one another, compliment each other, befriend each other and I have never had any doubts that Jasper would be there whenever I need him and I would do the same in a heartbeat.

Jasper, now set up in his life, was married to his college sweetheart, Alice, and a professor at Port Angeles Community College. History had always been his vice. His extreme nerdy side was the catalyst that fused our connection early on. In school we were both athletic and involved in sports, but we each had a passion for something beyond popularity. He had a strong interest in history and the details of war, the strategies of battle in particular, and I had painting and my sculptures. We stuck together and nobody bothered us. Together we were quite intimidating-strong, intelligent, and inventive. No one was ignorant enough to mess with us.

That intimidation trickled down a few grades to protect Jasper's little sister Rosalie as well. She was a good kid-smart, but awkward and shy most times. I only remember her as a vibrant and easy going individual when she was around Jasper and I and treated her like she was my own sister. We would talk about her interests and we even took a pottery class together my senior year. By the time Jasper and I graduated, I was sure that she would make it fine on her own. Last thing I heard about Rosalie was that she was applying to graduate schools on the West coast, making her way closer to home.

I pushed myself away from the kitchen counter and cleaned up the lake of coffee that had seeped out of the carafe before it spilled onto the floor. I nudged my glasses back onto the bridge of my nose, yeah that was going to annoy me all damned day, and grabbed my keys before running out to my truck. The December air was frigid, making me bristle into my worn pea coat. My F-150 roared to life as I turned the key and prayed that the cab would heat up quickly. Pulling my jacket closed and buttoning it up, I caught a thread from the coat and tugged on the toughened material. The thread pulled out from the seam quickly, tearing the hem apart and I swore to myself, damning the jacket to the Salvation Army drop box by the end of the day. Things had to get better.

On any normal day, my life was simple, humble. I'm a single man with no pets and a stable job. Everything ran smoothly and my path held little in the way of obstacles. I had a career that I enjoyed, most days, and I had been planning on venturing out when I could set aside enough capital to procure a small shop of my own. Any spare time I had was usually spent in my studio, painting. I don't earn much off of my artistic eye in the art world, yet. Someday I hoped to get my creations circulating all over the world.

The shop's desk manager, Janine, sat in her little compact 'save the Earth' Prius as she waited for me to open the door. She eyed me wearily as she approached.

"You're late. You're never late. Everything copacetic?" She pushed her shoulder into my side, waiting for me to get the door unlocked. As soon as the warm air hit me my glasses fogged up as Janine pushed me out of her way.

"Yeah. Nothing wanted to go my way. I'm hoping that I left all that bad juju at home. Lord knows that I can deal with a lot of bullshit, but I'm not sure if I can handle having it all dumped on me at the same time. Ya know?"

"Well, let me get some coffee going and I'll holler upstairs when it's ready." She opened the appointment book and started cleaning up the tiny lobby.

"Janine, _you_ are a ray of fucking sunshine on my rainy day."

"Don't get all poetic on me, big guy. You still have to take the first walk-in no matter how weird it is. No whining either."

"_Moi,_ whine?" I gasped, "Get to that coffee, sugar! Chop, chop!"

She laughed and flipped me off. Oh, how she brightened my days.

I ascended the narrow staircase, my shoulders grazing the walls lightly with each step I took, and unlocked the door to my office. My studio at home was chaotic and freeing. This room was all business-clean, organized, and inviting. I began setting up for my day. I placed the new needles in the autoclave and started sterilization. Checking the closet for paper towel and Vaseline, I heard Janine yell that the coffee was ready. Let me tell you, Janine was my barista of choice. Damn that girl could make one hell of a cup of coffee. With that liquid perfection in front of me, I told her to 'do it up' and she unlocked the doors for business to begin. As the sign flipped to 'open' I wondered what else the day had in store for me.

A few walk-ins later, I think the whole shop could hear my stomach rumble. I stomped down the stairs and caught Janine by surprise. She was cleaning the flash displays and bopping to the beat that pulsed through her iPod as I followed not a foot behind her. As she twirled around, she jumped back toward the wall and a tiny squeal escaped her mouth. I smirked at how easy it was to startle her and placed my hands on either side of her shoulders. Trapped, she yanked out her ear buds and lifted her chin calling me closer. I leaned in and pressed my solid body into her soft, petite one. Peering into her explosive hazel eyes I took a slow, deep breath.

"I think," I paused for dramatic effect, "it's about time that...you take...my...lunch order."

Janine's face went from shocked to anxious and then exasperated. The next thing I knew, she had me in the most painful titty twister. She had me hunched over and panting from the pain. Any outsider would've laughed at this petite thing conquering such a big guy. She definitely had taken control over the situation.

"You are a complete ass! I will take your order last and fuck it up anyway." Janine growled.

Releasing her hold on me, I quickly backed away and covered my nipples before she planned another assault on them. I was laughing as tears of pain gathered in my eyes. I removed my glasses as I wiped the tears away.

"That's what you get for sending that last tool into my office." I whined. "Did you know that I had to stare at, and touch, his ass cheek for at least a half hour?"

She laughed so loud that she disturbed any and all other activity in the shop. Edward, one of my full time artists, popped his head out of his room with a knowing grin on his face. I caught his gleeful look and pointed at him. "How did I manage to get that dandy client?"

"Sorry, man. I had three appointments already here." He snickered at me. "It couldn't have been that bad."

"Really, dude? How about we talk about me shaving his hairy ass cheek." Janine cackled again, folding her body over the reception desk. "Then tattooing a bumpy, wort ridden heart with a banner across that says 'Your Name Here'."

I shuddered in disgust as I recalled the horror of that last client. Edward laughed heartily as I heard Janine snort and fall onto the floor, gasping for air. I held off my own chuckles and tried not to enjoy their reactions to my torment. I pushed my bottom lip out with the intent of pouting, but was unable to hold it before I cracked.

"All right. That's enough." I reached down to help Janine to her feet as she attempted to get her laughter under control. She wiped at the tears that spilled from her eyes with the back of her hand and stood by her desk.

"Sorry Em. But that was the best. Um, what do you want for lunch?" Her voice quivered as she held her amusement back.

Her charcoal mascara had run down her face and I gently placed my fingers on her cheekbones and swept the inky watermarks from under her eyes with my thumbs. I had never seen such an expression from on her face before. Her eyes were taking in my sincerity. They were hooded in desire and her full, pink lips were parted an appearance of what could only be anticipation. The moment was intimate and, for me, rather inviting.

Janine was like family, a sister in most respects. We got along well and could talk about anything and everything. She was a smart-ass and funny, always looking for a way to make me smile. She's very attractive and about a foot shorter than me with wavy, chestnut hair long enough to grab onto and soft curves that were a pleasure to trace with my eyes. I had often appreciated her beauty and the appeal of her sexy bod, but never really thought about pursuing something more.

What would happen if I tried to see Janine in a different way? Could I feel something other than brotherly love for her? Would a relationship with her ruin our friendship? Would our friendship make us better lovers? That was definitely something to ponder.

"Okay, big guy," she bowed her head down from my hands and blushed. "What are you going to order that I can royally mess up?" She smiled at me as wrote it down. When she gathered all the lunch orders she walked out the door with a backward glance and a wink.

After eating and cleaning up my mess, I put my glasses back on before I started to look through Jasper's file. The last time I worked on his back piece, we discussed a few ideas for the next installment. Jasper began to work with me a few years back on creating a metaphorical, historical map of his favorite battles. The last section I finished represented The Civil War. It became very detailed and time consuming, but I was exhilarated when it was complete and Jasper was beyond proud to wear it. I couldn't wait to see what we would be outlining today. The Anglo Spanish war that lasted for over a decade in the late sixteen hundreds was a piece that I was definitely looking forward to incorporating into his presentation. I was anxious to see if Jasper wanted to go with a Baroque style portrait of the commission of the London Treaty or with a shipyard type battle scape.

Lost in my thoughts, I was caught off guard when I heard someone traipsing up the steps to my office. I felt that same internal awareness that told me Jasper was here. Knowing that was standing in the doorway, I placed the file on my drafting table and spread out our last drafts. Still lost in the excitement of creating such an original tattoo, I waved him in without looking his way.

"So, Goldilocks. Alice make you cut that girly mop of yours yet?" I asked.

Silence.

I lifted my head and turned to see what his problem was.

My mouth was agape. Jasper Hale was not my next appointment. Instead there stood this beautiful, leggy blond in his place, making me feel that same internal buzz. Her smile lit up the room.

I closed my mouth and swallowed, trying to find the words to apologize-or swear-or say something, anything. I pushed my glasses up to see her more clearly.

"Well, Alice _hasn't_ mentioned anything like that lately. Do you really think I need a trim?" She smirked at my befuddled expression knowing that I definitely didn't expect to see her standing there.

Well, I'll be a damned fool.

"Rosalie?"

[a]spoken with him TO set the appointment? and I still think "that should take up the entire evening" sounds a bit awkward. —prettyinypsi


	56. One Shot by TwilightMomofTwo

**Author's Note: **

This is a missing moment outtake from my AU vamp story 'Resurrection' which can be found here: http :/ www [dot] fanfiction [dot] net / s / 5443190.

The premise of the story is that Edward leaves again after the night of tears towards the end of Eclipse.

Many thanks to the fabulous _Bella's Executioner_ for betaing this sucker. I don't know what I'd do without her encouragement, support and wise words. She makes me a better writer. Much gratitude to _HMonster4 _for coming up with 30 Days of Emmett, thus inspiring me to venture out of my Edward comfort zone.

**Disclaimer: **Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight, including these characters. The plot for this outtake, as well as the full AU story, is mine. No copyright infringement is intended.

On with it.

oooo~~~~OOOO~~~~oooo

**Musings of a simple man **

The interstate stretches in front of us as I steer the car through the night, speeding as always, on our way to Chicago. Baby girl has finally fallen asleep in the backseat, tear tracks dried on her face. Alice put a pillow under her head and covered her legs with a blanket.

I wish I knew what the hell Edward is thinking, running off like that. I get it, alright? I know Bella's actions in the last couple of months have made him question her commitment to him, but for fuck's sake, I just don't get why he's constantly running away instead of facing the issue head-on.

And I get that Bella kissing that fucking mutt was a real shitty move. I don't know what the fuck she was thinking, doing that, but whatever her reason, she has made it clear for a while now that she wants to be one of us, and that she wants to be with Edward.

She thinks that boy hung the moon.

That's debatable, but who am I to judge?

And now the dumb shit is running again. Just like he did last year after Jasper tried to take a bite out of Bella. Got all morose after that and demanded that we all leave.

I've never seen Alice bitch like she did that night, about how ridiculous he was acting, and how that wouldn't solve anything, and how Bella's future still didn't change, and that he should just suck it up, literally, and change her already.

That she was his mate, and that he was a complete fool to not realize it.

In the end, it didn't matter. Carlisle gave his consent, we packed our shit, and were gone by nightfall, while Edward stayed behind to tell Bella good-bye.

I didn't find out until after our return what he had actually told her. Alice had seen it but she'd kept that tidbit to herself.

Needless to say, once I did find out how shitty and cruel Edward had been to my baby sister, I was ready to rip off his head.

Lucky fucker heard me coming.

Fucking mind reader. Can't sneak up on him.

Which reminds me. 

"Alice, how're we gonna get close to him once we get to Chicago? He's gonna hear us from miles away and his sissy ass is gonna run again."

"Same way I did in Volterra. Bella first. She'll sufficiently distract him."

Jasper snorts down his nose. "If he doesn't eat her first. I s'pose that is a distraction as well."

"Jasper!" Alice gasps. "That's not funny."

Yeah, it is, actually, and I snicker accordingly.

"Eat her out, you mean?"

"Emmett!" Rose smacks me over the head and I sober up with a snort.

"That'll be the day, Edward biting Bella. He's more likely to rip his own face off."

Jasper grimaces. "He's stronger than all of us, that's for sure."

"What is the prognosis?" Rose asks, and there's a hint of concern in her voice. She doesn't want anyone to know how she really feels about Bella, but I know this woman in and out, and I can tell my wife has come to support the relationship. And accepted the fact that Bella will be one of us sooner or later.

"I can't see much yet. He hasn't fed in a while. I don't know that he's even thinking about hunting. Oh! Jasper! Peter and Charlotte will come visit in a few weeks. Edward's about to run into them."

Alice giggles.

I raise my eyes at her. "What?"

"They're...busy, when he meets up with them."

My eyes find those of my wife in the rearview mirror, and I smile, winking at her. I know exactly what kind of busy Alice is talking about and my dick twitches, wishing I could stop this car and drag Rosalie into the woods for a quick forest fuck.

Too bad there's no time to stop.

Damn it!

I add another reason to beat my brother when we get to him.

Rosalie is my own personal angel. My mate. I don't know what I'd do without her. She makes my life worth living.

She also keeps me in line whether I need it or not.

I waggle my eyebrows at her and grin as she bites the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling, while she thumbs me on the head.

"Eyes on the road, Emmett."

See?

Alice has that faraway look on her face, the typical, tell-tale sign that she is having one of her visions. She freaked me out when she and Jasper initially joined the family, always talking about things that hadn't even happened yet, most of them out of the blue, without any warning. The first time she told me to head a certain way when hunting, I scoffed, but when Edward came back, grinning after having brought down the bear I'd been tracking, I started to listen to her.

She is good to have around.

Naturally, the freakfest continued and Edward started having these completely silent conversations with her when they figured out how to use her visions and his mind-reading to keep the rest of us out of whatever shit they're planning.

I hate that with a vengeance. I hate being out of the loop. And those two freaks, with their sneaky abilities, ganged up on me time after time. For a while there, it was Embarrass Emmett Day every day.

Though if I'm honest, most of the time it doesn't really bother me too much. I'm usually happy with whatever gets my moody brother out of his funk. That boy can be such a Debbie Downer, it ain't funny. Always so withdrawn and staying on the fringes. Over the last couple of decades, it has only gotten worse.

He's been alone for so long, and while I don't mention it often, I do understand that he feels left out in a family of mated pairs.

Eighteen months ago, he fell in love with Bella and the usually solitary, self-contained and mostly melancholy brother I knew completely transformed and slowly blossomed into someone I could actually relate to – someone I could enjoy being around. He started joking a bit – not often, but his gloomy mood lifted.

Bella was good for him.

Except the boy didn't see it. Didn't want to see what was right in front of him, and realize that, by golly, he'd found his mate. So she was human. So what? Nothing a simple bite wouldn't cure, right? Not complicated at all, as far as I was concerned.

Oh no, Mr. Perfect would not even entertain the idea, and threatened all of us with bodily harm if we were to even try to change her. Or come near her with our teeth. Or whatever.

Her soul was too important, blah blah blah, and he just couldn't possibly condemn her to this life.

His words, not mine.

I suppose he didn't consider the fact that putting a human among seven vampires, vegetarians or not, wasn't exactly the best idea he'd ever had.

I can still remember how he worried and fiddled and pissed me off the whole weekend hunting with me, way back when he first started to admit his feelings for Bella to himself. Stupid chit, really. What was clear to all of us from the get-go took Broody McBroodster months to figure out. Talk about not seeing the forest for the trees, and all that.

When he finally got it, all was well for a while. I still can't quite understand how he was able to resist biting her, knowing how good she smelled to him. That whole singer phenomenon – well, let's just say the woman I ran into way back when never stood a fucking chance. I didn't even think straight until after she was drained. It was a compulsion.

Bite, suck, bliss.

And I'm not ashamed to admit to myself, and Edward who plucked that thought right out of my head, damn him, that the poor woman's blood tasted better than anything else that ever crossed my lips.

Rosie's venom included.

But don't tell her that.

We all watched the Edward and Bella show for the rest of the summer. Esme was gushing almost daily how wonderful Bella was, how she brought Edward to life and how it made her so happy to see Edward finally in love.

Carlisle was relieved and worried at the same time, knowing that Edward would have to make a choice sooner or later.

Alice was beside herself with giddiness, and not only from having found a BFF – no, it was very clear that she was also reaping the benefits of the lust and desire Edward was sending out whenever he laid eyes on Bella or touched her in any way.

And I'm not talking bloodlust – no, this was a very different kind of lust. Looked like to me as if Edward the Edwardian had finally discovered his sexuality. Talk about a late bloomer. Dude was forever seventeen but that apparently didn't mean anything. Not even Tanya's consistent advances tempted him from keeping his cherry intact.

He did shower a lot more after he met Bella, if you get my drift, but other than a few chaste kisses, I never saw or heard them do anything even remotely sexual.

Naturally, I ribbed him mercilessly, especially when Jasper started groaning at the sexual tension between the two of them.

I think that's when he first started rubbing one out every morning, before picking Bella up for school. I teased him about that, too – at least, until he jumped on my back and pushed my face in the dirt, and kept me there until I promised him to quit the teasing.

He should have just changed her. A lot of the bullshit that went down since he met Bella could have been avoided if he'd just been man enough to fully make her his mate.

"He should have just fucking changed her," I blurt out angrily. "It's his fault we're stuck in this car, damn it. I'm bored."

"Quit whining, Emmett," Alice chirps. "You'll get a swipe at him when we get to the Chicago house."

I turn my head to her and snort in disbelief. "Yeah, right. Sure. Whatever."

"Oh, I have a plan. You'll see."

I grumble to myself, not buying what she's selling. There's no way he's gonna let me hit him. He's dodged my fists too many times.

"Trust me, Emmett," she giggles and winks. "You'll get in a punch, maybe even two."

I smile at the prospect. "Seriously?"

"Yes. I don't know exactly yet how it will happen but I see Edward rubbing his chin after you hit him."

"Excellent!" I pump my fist. "'s not like that happens a lot."

"Try never," Jasper laughs.

"Not true," I argue. "Just last week, I hit his arm."

Rosie chimes in. "Not sure that counts, Emmett."

"Guess not," I mutter as I think back. "He let me hit him, didn't he?"

She nods, trying to hide a smile. "Part of his apology, I think."

"Yeah – I wonder where that came from. It's not like him," Jasper muses. "The things he told me...well, let's just say it was rather unexpected."

I mull over that for a moment. It's true – Edward doesn't usually apologize for much of anything. He's always so fucking serious and stuck-up and proper, there isn't much to apologize for.

No, our Eddie is always a perfect gentleman, and no matter how much I tease him or throw explicit images at him in my head, he simply groans and walks away.

He seriously needs to trade in that V-card. Dude needs to get laid.

I have few memories of my human life, and they are hazy at best. There are a few images of my parents and my siblings sitting around a large table holding very little food. I remember a couple of girls that I had been friendly with.

When that stupid bear found me, I wasn't much older than Edward, but my dick had been dipped frequently since I was fifteen. There was always a pretty girl who'd catch my eye, and poor as we were, there sure wasn't much else to do.

Except for goats, maybe.

Okay, kidding.

Sure looks like this trait followed me into this life. Not a day goes by where Rosie and I don't fuck like rabbits. The sex was phenomenal ever since I pulled my head out of my ass after that first year as a newborn.

Life is good. Yeah, we're vampires and live off blood but thanks to Carlisle's philosophy and general pacifism, we have managed to build a life away from violence, with plenty of time to pursue our interests and form close bonds with each other. We're a family, and Bella is our missing piece.

We need her, to make the family complete. We all love her – even my darling wife, who has finally come around to accepting Bella as Edward's mate.

Life is pretty fucking good.

Unfortunately, my fucktard brother didn't get that memo.

Which is why we're on this roadtrip now, speeding towards Chicago, to reunite McBroody with his mate, who's currently drooling into the pillow.

"Hmm, Edward..."

What the hell was that? My eyes flicker to the mass of brown hair and settle on her face.

Baby girl talks in her sleep, it seems. Well, isn't that interesting. I wonder what Edward has heard over the course of the last few months, seeing how he spends almost every night in her room.

Watching her snooze.

I can't think of anything more boring than that.

I snicker to myself. What a douchebag.

"Please...don't...please...come back."

And just like that, I'm fucking angry.

This shit just doesn't fly with me. I don't understand how he can just up and leave her – not once, but twice.

Stupid fucker. There she is, lying in the back seat with her arms wrapped around herself, with snot drying under her nose, because my brother isn't man enough to open his fucking mouth and tell her the truth.

She's his mate.

He is hers.

And that's really all there's to it.

She's been his mate from the moment they met. He just has his head too far up his ass to see this for what it is – a gift.

We are damn lucky, especially me, to have all found our mates. Hell, I was human too when Rosalie fell in love with me. I was almost bear dinner. Not my finest hour. Still, she carried me hundreds of miles to Carlisle and when I woke up, I was sure I had died and gone to heaven. She is the ying to my yang, or however that New Age shit works.

This is my version of heaven, anyway.

I still get a kick out of aggravating bears right before I snap their necks. Best revenge ever.

Edward has always been a master at hiding his true feelings, barricading himself behind his music and other sissy shit, and with every moment sinking a little deeper into his brooding melancholy, until even his music couldn't drag him out of the muck.

Until Bella.

And then the idiot left her.

Lied to her and just left her there.

I'm still pissed at him for demanding that we leave, and pissed at myself that I didn't refuse. We all abandoned that girl, and it's a miracle that she forgave us for it.

We pay a price, though, for Edward's stupidity and arrogance and for our compliance with it.

It turned out that Bella had gotten friendly with the neighborhood werewolves while we were away, and they weren't keen on her spending time with the local bloodsuckers.

Just like we weren't keen on Bella spending time with them. Edward said a few things to her about it, and the battle lines were drawn. She didn't back down and guilted him into letting her spend time on the reservation where we aren't allowed to set foot.

Edward crumbled before our eyes. He kept up his charade in front of her, but the more time Bella spent with that rotten mutt, the more Edward faltered.

I was a bit confused with her behavior. For the life of me, I couldn't understand why she kept running after that dog. Edward mumbled a few things on occasion about how she felt guilty for having used that mutt. I wondered if she didn't see that what she was doing was simply stringing the dog along, all the while professing to love my brother and making plans to become one of us.

In the three months between their return from the clutches of the Volturi and the fight with the newborn army, I could see my brother deteriorating again. He was scared to call her out on her behavior, scared to question the status quo, scared to make her commit herself one way or another, because he wasn't sure that she would choose him.

Even Alice's intervention, begging him to talk to Bella about his feelings, made no impression on him. Edward kept muddling along and I could tell he was only barely holding on.

We left to hunt two days before Alice had seen the newborns in the clearing, and when we returned, Edward seemed elated about something.

We soon found out that he'd finally manned up enough and asked Bella to marry him. Esme was beside herself with joy, and I clapped his shoulder jovially, all the while thinking up a bunch of tricks to play on him before the wedding.

My fingers itched to get on the Internet to order a bunch of things. Instruction manuals on sex, a few toys – the list was getting longer the more I thought about it. Perhaps a few demonstrations with a blow-up doll.

Merciless ribbing is my forte, after all, and embarrassing my perpetually virginal brother is ridiculously easy.

All seemed well enough after the fight, and I still wasn't exactly sure what happened, but the next night ended with my brother destroying his room in a fit of rage and then leaving town.

All this shit, this entire road trip could have been avoided if he had only told her how he feels instead of sticking his head in the sand, hoping that she'd figure it out on her own.

Honest communication is a keystone in any relationship, mated or not. Even I know that.

It's not like it's complicated. Talk. Listen. Talk some more. And when in doubt, remember that your woman is always right.

Not hard, right? Well, Edward has made a science out of over-complicating easy shit.

He's supposedly so fucking smart, but after this latest debacle, I'm having serious doubts.

I guess there's a difference between book smarts and common sense. He's seriously lacking the latter.

Seriously.

Dumbass.

Yes, my dear brother has taken stupid to a whole new level.

My knuckles tighten as my fingers flex and the car lurches forward as the tension in my body finds an outlet on the gas pedal.

Jasper glances at me with an unspoken question in his eyes and, for good measure, pushes a little calm at me.

"Emmett, ease up. I don't know what got you so angry all of a sudden, but please don't break the steering wheel."

I snort at him. "Yeah, whatever. Like you don't know."

He doesn't answer. It's just as well because I'm angry enough as it is.

"What is he doing?" Alice suddenly cries from the back seat and all eyes are instantly on her.

"What? What?" I shout, my eyebrow raised. "What's going on?"

Alice snickers uncontrollably. "Hahaha – he's about to decimate a patch of forest up in the Canadian Rockies somewhere. And I mean truly decimate. Like a wood chipper. What an idiot."

"You serious?"

"Yep," she grins. "Looks like he's finally letting out some of those pent-up feelings. Oh my – he seems to have picked up a few of your words, Emmett – dang, I didn't realize he had such a potty mouth."

"He learned from the best," I smile proudly and Rose laughs.

Jasper grins. "I think it'll do him a world of good to release some of that anger. Even if it is detrimental to the trees."

"He's pulverizing rocks, too," Alice giggles. "When he shows up at the house, he looks rather filthy."

"Oh, really?" I say, wiggling my eyebrows. "Perfect Edward got dirty?"

"I'd say it's beyond dirty at this point. He'll have to burn those clothes." She laughs and it's infectious. I guffaw before Rose shushes me.

Alice's eyes glaze over for a moment and I wait for the inevitable vision to play out in her head before she will let us in on what she's seen. My fingers tap the steering wheel impatiently as my eyes wander over the car's interior design.

It is a nice car. Fast, too. Even before Rose tinkered with it and boosted the engine performance. Not that I would know what she did. I'm not allowed to touch the cars, except for acting as the jack.

I don't mind. The rewards are usually very satisfactory, if you know what I mean.

"Excellent!" Alice exclaims with a giggle. "That worked out perfectly. He just gave us extra time to make a stop before we send Bella to the house. Yes!"

"Make a stop for what?" Rose asks from behind me.

"Obviously, Bella needs a car," Alice replies with a wink. "And this will be a perfect opportunity for her to accept a gift from Edward."

I'm not holding my breath. If anything, the past has proven that Bella is extremely adverse to receiving presents, especially from Edward. Hell, I had to install the radio we got her for her birthday last year before she opened her presents so she couldn't return it.

That's something else I don't understand about Bella. It's as if she doesn't understand that by rejecting Edward's gifts, she's actually rejecting him. We Cullen men get great pleasure from buying things for our women. From treating them the right way, from giving them their hearts' desires.

"Do you think he ever really explained that to her?" I blurt my thoughts.

"Explained what?" Jasper asks.

"About giving her stuff, and why."

"I sincerely doubt it," Rose chimes in. "Why do you ask?"

"Well," I elaborate, turning my head to the occupants in the back seat, "I'm just thinking out loud here, but if you were to reject my gifts for some odd reason, I'd be pretty fucking hurt. So, I'm wondering if Bella understands that by telling Edward he can't buy her things, she's actually hurting him."

"I sincerely doubt that, too," Alice snorts. "Saying something to Bella might make her want to break up with him. As if that were even a possibility..." She shakes her head. "For someone who's so very smart he sure isn't very bright."

My thoughts exactly.

"Well, Bella running after that hideous dog surely didn't convince him otherwise," Rose sneers angrily. "I don't know what the hell she was thinking, or why she can't see how much that hurt Edward."

"Well," I inject quickly before Rose can get any more pissed, "I may be wrong, and I'm only a guy, but it seems to me that Bella isn't convinced Edward was gonna stay. I mean we've only been back for a few months, right? And have they actually really talked about what happened?"

See? There's that honest communication thing again. That shit's important.

I may be loud and boisterous most of the time, but I see things nobody ever gives me credit for. When are these gift-enhanced twerps going to learn that the big guy's got a brain? I can put two and fucking two together without being a fortune teller pixie. Eddie's been sporting a tutu and doing Swan Lake around the subject of our abandonment. Like he's afraid to rock the boat. Maybe he's thinking that Bella would break things off if he sticks up for himself. Maybe he thinks he's on thin ice and scared to remind her of anything that went on since last fall.

Not that I blame him, considering the clusterfuck his leaving caused._ That,_ I blame him for.

"Not that I'm aware of," Alice says sadly. "Even thought I've told him numerous times, I've never actually 'seen' them talking about that topic except for that one time right after we got back. And knowing Edward, I'm fairly certain he's not brought it up again."

"Well," Jasper drawls from his seat next to me, "if y'all want my opinion, based on the emotions I've been picking up from both of them, I'd say that Bella is not only feeling guilty for spending time with the mutt, but also still somewhat hesitant to believe that Edward's here to stay. What hasn't changed at all, is the love I feel radiating from her, all directed at him. It's nearly as strong as how I feel about Alice, and considering that Bella's still human...well...it will only get stronger once she's one of us. There's an underlying familial love I can sense for the rest of us. She worried a lot when we prepared for the fight. There's a sadness, too, that I can't understand but if I were to hazard a guess, I'd say it's because of what's coming – having to say goodbye to her father, her friends. She's scared, and I can comprehend her apprehension. There's a bit of fear on occasion, tinged with guilt. Oddly enough, fear is one emotion she has never felt towards me..."

He breaks off and falls silent, staring out the windshield. Alice's hand snakes onto his shoulder and squeezes, and Jasper turns his head towards us again.

"As I said, I think Bella doesn't trust Edward to stay. And he has certainly proven himself today, hasn't he? I can't say I blame her for feeling that way."

Rose snorts angrily. "I beg to differ. She brought a lot of this on herself. Granted, the dumbass shouldn't have run again, but I can see where he would get the wrong message."

"I think they both need some time alone to talk things out," Alice placates my wife. "They've both made some serious mistakes."

It's my turn to snort. "Ya think?"

Jasper chuckles but then we all fall silent again. I fiddle with a piece of yarn that's sticking up from the steering wheel cover.

The miles fly away under the tires. We leave Wyoming behind and cross into South Dakota, only stopping for gas as needed. Bella sleeps the night away.

By morning we reach Wisconsin, and after a quick stop to feed the human and let her use the restroom we are in Illinois, only a couple of hours away from our destination.

Alice quietly talks to Rose after Bella falls asleep again, chatting about inconsequential gossip. I listen with half an ear, while the rest of my mind not needed for driving wanders.

I think about my oldest brother and my little human sister, wondering if there is anything these two could have done to fuck up their relationship any more thoroughly, and what, if anything, I can do to help them back onto the right path.

I can't come up with anything much. They've nearly fucking destroyed each other, and yet, their bond has withstood not only a long separation, but also a massive amount of wounds they inflicted on each other. I'm amazed that Bella has been able to deal with the months of their separation, seeing how she's human.

I've heard of vampires going insane from the pain of losing their mates.

Granted, she is human, so perhaps that means that she doesn't feel with the same intensity we do. I don't know much about that shit – that's all Carlisle's domain – but I do know that if I were without Rosie for that long, I'd go absolutely bonkers.

We don't separate once mated and that's that.

Jasper glances at me. "You okay there, Em? It's not like you to be so quiet."

"Just thinking," I reply with a smirk. "Yeah, I know – what a rarity."

He grins. "Wasn't gonna say it."

When we're about an hour from Chicago, I address Alice.

"So, what's the plan, oh wise one?"

"There's an Audi dealership right off the interstate in Schaumburg, outside of Chicago. We'll stop there to make Bella buy a car."

I laugh. "Good luck with that. Does she know?"

"Not yet, but I don't see her putting up much of a fight. I think between Rose and myself, we can convince her."

"Convince or persuade?" Jasper injects with a smirk. "Slight difference."

Alice thinks for a moment. "Not sure yet. Either way, she'll be buying a car."

Rose rubs her hands. "I am certainly looking forward to that. What kind are we making her buy? I know Edward's been talking about the A8 for a while."

"Excellent idea," Alice says. "Oh wait...ugh, slimy salesman alert. Jasper, you'll have to do all the talking initially."

"No problem, darlin'. What model are we looking at?"

As Rose launches into an animated discussion of the pros and cons for the various cars, I tune them out and catch another glimpse of my sleeping sister. She washed her face at the last stop and it's free of the tears for now.

I sigh.

Fucking morons.

Both of them.

oooo~~~~OOOO~~~~oooo

**Endnote:** Thank you for reading. If you liked it, please head over to my profile for my other works. Www [dot] fanfiction [dot] net / u / 1879641. This outtake will be posted there as well. And if you're so inclined, please follow me on twitter [at]twilighmomofto


	57. A Drabble by KnittingVamp7

**Name:** KnittingVamp7

**Title:** The Call

**Rating:** M

**Pairing:** Emmett

**Summary:** Outtake drabble from _Someone to Watch Over Me_, before Chapter One. EmPOV. Thanks to HMonster4, AccioBourbon and TheHeartOfLife for hosting The 30 Days of Emmett, and to my awesome beta, Feisty Y. Beden, for the quick job at the last minute.

Song: "Chimeras" by Tim Hecker.

I can hear my cell phone ringing in my pocket and I hurry to unlock the door and unload the groceries onto the counter so I can answer it.

I see it's my baby sister calling and smile. "Hey, Bells, what's up?"

I hear a sniffle and a quiet "Emmett?" My heart drops and I turn into Brother Bear, thinking she got hurt somehow.

"What happened, Bella? What's going on? Are you hurt? Do you need me to come get you? Do I need to beat some ass?"

"No," she chokes out and I hear a sob escape through the phone. "No, I'm… I'm fine. Um… Oh God, Emmett, they're gone. They're gone, it's just… Oh God."

Now I'm beginning to panic and get that cold feeling in my belly. "Who's gone, Bells?" I ask quietly, my eyes closed, bracing for the worst.

"Mom and Dad. They're dead, Emmett."


	58. one Shot from TiggyTiggyTwoShoes

**Penname: **TiggyTiggyTwoShoes

**Title: **Emmett McCarty – The Bear Hunter

Characters: Emmett, Rosalie, Edward, Bella, Alice, Jasper, Seth, OC.

**Rating**: M for language

**Summary**: Emmett McCarty, Wilderness Troupe Leader, naturalist, bear expert, Park Ranger is talked into doing a Black Bear special for an up and coming TV station. Follow him as he navigates not just the wilds of Tennessee, but also faces the challenge of a demanding director in order to produce 'movie magic'.

A/N Big thanks to PTB for the comma intervention and to AccioBourbon, Hmonster4 and Theheartoflife for running 30 days of Emmett.

SM owns it; I just kidnapped the characters and played with them a bit. I have no affiliations with Nat Geo, Animal Planet or Americas Funniest Animals.

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**I sat around the fire pit smiling to myself; I love it out here in the wild. The wind in my hair, the sun in my face. I love the green of the trees, the deep brown of the earth and the crystal clear blue of the fresh water springs and streams. The Great Smokey Mountains National Park, near Gatlinburg, Tennessee is, and always will be, my home from home. While Rosie isn't that big on the great outdoors, she has grown to love and enjoy our frequent trips out here. The seclusion from day to day insanity of the city is like a little slice of heaven. **

"**Emmett, tell us 'nother story. Pweaaaase," the timid childish voice of little Isabella Swan drifted over the fire.**

"**Yeah Em, tell us 'nother story," agreed the blonde haired, blue eyed monkey Jasper.**

**A cacophony of childlike whoops and squeals from the rest of the children followed. This is what I lived for. The kids from the wilderness group always knew what buttons to press to get 'Ranger Em' to tell them a story. **

**I smiled at the eager faces of the children around the fire. A small hand wormed its way in between my huge beefy fingers. Little Alice Cullen, a tiny little girl that you could just pick up and put in your pocket. She reminded me of a wood nymph. When she had joined my wilderness troupe she was so quiet and shy and I wondered how she would fare out here. Imagine my surprise when we set foot on the tree lined trail, weighted down with our packs, and she literally vibrated where she stood from sheer excitement. Little Alice lived for the great outdoors; suffice to say I was thrilled. **

"**Tell us how you became a TV star Ranger Em," Edward Cullen, Alice's 6 year old twin brother babbled out eagerly. **

**Edward, now there's a kid after my own heart. Where Alice was a wood nymph, Edward would be a guardian. Fiercely loyal, overwhelmingly protective, that boy was a mixture of smart and strong. To see them both together, you'd know they were related somehow, but twins, no, they were complete opposites. Where Alice was tiny with piercing blue eyes and sleek black hair cut into a cute little bob, Edward was tall and gangly with crazy auburn hair and the greenest eyes I'd ever seen. He was the calm to her crazy.**

"**Yeah! Tell us about the crazy man and the bear!" Agreed little Isabella.**

**She was a beautiful little girl, deep chocolate brown eyes that would bore into your soul and long mahogany hair. She had just celebrated her 6****th**** birthday this week. She was both timid and brave, she had a strong sense of what was right and always had her head stuck in a book. She had a gap where her two front teeth used to be; apparently the tooth fairy had had to work extra hard last week as it left her a whole dollar under her pillow. The gap left her with a slight lisp, but that would soon go once her big teeth pushed through.**

"**Yeah the bear, the bear!" squealed Alice excitedly.**

**Jasper placed his hand on her shoulder as she was bouncing so hard he was being flipped along the log. She calmed instantly and smiled at him. **

**Jasper Whitlock was a very quiet child with an old soul. He rarely said much, but when he did it was normally something profound. He could read emotions and situations as if they flashed at him in neon. I smiled at the interactions between the children. I couldn't refuse them when they were so excited, even if they had heard this story many times before. It was something of a tradition now; I always shared the bear story on the first night of our summer camp out. **

"**Oh I suppose so," I said with a dramatic sigh. **

**Edward smirked at me knowingly; sometimes I swear that kid can read my mind. I grinned back, winking at him as he laced his fingers through Isabella's. They were like two peas in a pod, practically inseparable. It made me think of my Rosie. I wish she'd come with us, but she was heavily pregnant and didn't want to have our baby out in the woods. When she had told me this, I'd stupidly replied, "Why not? Bears do it all the time." Needless to say that was the wrong response. I could still feel the lump on the back of my head from where she'd thrown her purse at me. I wonder if she had a brick in that thing. **

**I was shaken from my musing by little Alice. "Ranger Em, tell us about the bear please," she whispered, her tiny hand curled around my ear as if she was telling me a secret. Her big blue eyes imploring with my own. **

"**Okay Alice, go take a seat."**

"**Yes!" she squealed before hurrying to sit next to Jasper.**

"**Okay kids, if I tell you the story, then you'll not argue about going to sleep straight after."**

"**We promise." They all rallied.**

**I cocked an eyebrow and looked at each of them in turn. I added another log to the fire and settled back down on my log. I glanced over at them expectant looks on their faces; bright, inquisitive eyes bore into my own.**

"**Okay, well it all started on a cold Saturday morning in June," I started. The memory of the strangest and somewhat amusing event in my career filled my mind.**

"_Ok people, two minutes!"_

_Seriously this feels so fake, I'm sure that Australian guy who played with crocodiles didn't have to put up with this crap. Right, deep breath, "I can do this, I do this every day, I just don't do this in front of a film crew of 25 with a camera shoved practically up my ass."_

"_Mr McCarty, we're ready for you."_

"_Fine fine, I'm coming."_

_One last, deep breath and I stepped out of the huge trailer they'd brought down to the Great Smokey Mountains National Park. Sure the amenities they had provided for me were great, but they just weren't me. I'd have been happy with my bed roll and my gun; this wasn't real, this was wrong, all wrong. I froze as the wiry little hobbit of a man ran at me; with his glasses perched on top of his head, his fancy suit rustling as he ran well more like waddled in my direction. I grimaced as his bony finger flicked out from his clenched fist like a switchblade, "Note to self, don't mess with switchblade fingers." I mumbled to myself._

"_Mr McCarty, why aren't you wearing what I left in your trailer?"_

"_Oh I don't know Levi, or whatever your name is, maybe I don't want to look like an idiot," I retorted crossing my arms. _

_I can't believe that little freak wanted me to dress up like some fucked up Crocodile Dundee. What's wrong with my jeans and lumber jack shirt? Sure the blood stains are a bit disconcerting and I suppose the rips don't really give off the sense that I'm too good at this bear hunting stuff, but my Rosie says it makes me look rugged and handsome and I favour her opinion more._

"_Just go and put it on, you're wasting time." He quipped as he raised an eyebrow at me before turning and flouncing off._

"_Creepy little fucker," I muttered under my breath._

_Ignoring the little freak I strode confidently across the parking lot and directed myself towards the film crew, mentally talking through the bear safety talk I would need to give them before we headed in. _This is such a bad idea_, I thought to myself._

"_Ah Emmett, you're here." A thin, geeky looking guy said. I recognised him as the director, but for all I know he could've been an ice cream salesman. One thing is for sure I'd have my work cut out for me keeping this dude alive out here. _

"_Yep, here I am," I replied looking him in the eye._

Bear hunting 101, show no fear. Sure he's not a bear, but hey a predator is a predator and this guy was the top of his food chain.

"_I see you're not wearing the costume." He eyed me speculatively._

"_Nope, not going to either. If you want me, then you get me, not some wannabe Crocodile Dundee on crack."_

_He snorted in response. That was a better response than what I envisioned. _

"_So Emmett, the plan is, we head into the park, find a bear, you do your bear voodoo thing for the camera and then we finish up with some nature shots and stuff. You do your diary for the camera and then we pack up and come home."_

"_Bear Voodoo?" I laughed shaking my head._

"_Yeah Bear Voodoo, make nice with the bears, I'd really like some close up stuff, maybe you could wrestle."_

"_Make nice with the bears and maybe wrestle? Dude, whatever you're smoking, pass it around."_

"_Look Emmett, the network has put a lot of money into this; Animal Planet and Nat Geo have the Australian and Brady Barr. We've got you and we expect nothing short of spectacular. So whatever it is that you do, you need to be sure that it's more than those other two yahoos or we'll go knock up Grizzly Adams and you'll be out on your ass," he responded with a snarl._

_I rolled my eyes and stood at my full height. If this guy wanted to whip out his dick and see whose is bigger I was game, but I was not going to sell myself out just so he could make a mockery._

"_Grizzly Adams? You know he's dead right?" I snorted._

"_He can't be I used to watch him on TV as a kid!"_

"_That was an actor dude, Grizzly died in 1860. So unless you got a time machine, he won't be playing nice with the bears either," I responded, a smirk fighting to spread across my face at the sheer stupidity of this guy._

"_If you say so Emmett, either way you need to man up and show us the magic."_

_I figured it would be easier not to say anything, the guy was an idiot, and nothing I say was going to change that. Scratching my head, I followed him across the parking lot to the trail head. _

"_Right Emmett, time to work your magic," he said before stepping away to stand by some guy with a huge ass camera._

_I took in a deep breath and prepared myself for the hell that was to come. _

"_Rolling...and ACTION."_

_I leaned against a rock on the trail head and looked into the camera._

"_Howdy, I'm Emmett McCarty and today we're at the awesome Great Smokey Mountains National Park to see if we can catch a glimpse of an elusive Black Bear. So how about you'ns join me for a walk through this beautiful patch of Tennessee parkland..." _

"_CUT!" shouted the freaky little geek, "What the fuck is you'ns Emmett, this is TV, not a journey into hick colloquialisms!" he screeched angrily._

"_Dude chill out, that's how I talk, I can't stop speaking normally just because you can't understand me."_

_I stood there scratching my head, the feel of my fingers caressing my scalp calming me and preventing me from ripping this idiot a new one. I closed my eyes and sighed, 'Why oh why did I sign up for this again?'_

_The early morning air bit into me, a bitter chill running down my back like icy fingers. I looked up at the slightly dark blue sky, tips of the Spruce trees tickling its underbelly. The sun may just make an appearance today I thought to myself. _An unconscious smile spread across my face at the thought.

"_Emmett! We don't have all day, I want to see bears!"_

_That dude is really getting on my nerves. If he pulled this shit out there I was going to leave his ass in a cave, see how he likes to play nice with the bears. _

_I glanced up at the trailhead, the corridor of trees stood sentinel, just like they had every time I'd been here before. Something stirred within me, anticipation perhaps, it was like the wild was calling to me, like a siren. I hefted my pack over my shoulder; one last look behind me showed that they were set up to follow me. I took a deep breath and I stepped onto the worn trail._

_For the next few hours we hiked; I was sure they had better things to film than the back of my head as I led them further into the forest. _

"_How much further Emmett, so far we have a lot of footage of your ass and too much bloody green. It's like a leprechaun threw up."_

_I shook my head in distaste, _no respect_. _

"_Of course it's green...in case you missed it, we're in a forest."_

_I clenched my fists in order to stop myself from punching the idiot in the face. Although I doubt that would've knocked any sense into him, you know what they say, 'no sense no feeling.'_

_A little over an hour later we trudged into a small camp ground that had already been set up by one of the rangers. It was set out in a secure ring, 7 large tents, a fire pit and a latrine. We had fresh water from a nearby spring._

"_Welcome to camp gentlemen," I said, waving my hands around like a game show host._

_A mass of relieved faces stared back at me; the crew had been working like pack mules all day, dragging equipment without complaint. Now the only person complaining was that punk of a director. He'd done nothing but whine and moan since we set out early this morning. _

_I unrolled my bedroll next to the fire pit; I rarely slept in tents, unless of course the weather turned bad. A night under the stars would do wonders to soothe my rising temper. Perhaps I'd wake in the morning and find that this was all a bad dream. I could only hope. _

"_No food in the tents, unless you want to wake up with a bear in your bedroll," I called out. _

"_And just where do you expect us to eat then, Emmett?"_

"_Around the fire like normal civilised people?" I responded. "Oh and don't forget to bag any garbage, and use the covered trash cans. We need to prevent any tempting smells from lingering, no need to encourage the bears to be too friendly."_

"_Emmett, we're here to see bears, so surely this is the perfect opportunity."_

"_No! If we get bears in camp, then we'll find ourselves in a whole heap of trouble that we really don't want, nor do we need."_

_I could see one of the younger guys from the crew smirking at our exchange from across the fire pit; it didn't escape my attention that he was filming either. I raised an eyebrow in question, he shrugged and continued to sit and watch the show. I smirked at the camera, hidden slightly by his pack. Rolling my eyes, I mouthed the word moron at the lens before standing and walking to the spring to wash up._

_We sat around the fire, talking and laughing as the night drew in. Eventually someone produced a guitar and our time around the fire became more jovial. If it hadn't been for the idiot director the atmosphere would've been almost perfect. _

"_I'm going to bed. I expect my coffee at 7.30 no earlier, no later," he demanded before sloping off to the largest tent, which he had commandeered for himself. Heaven forbid he should lower himself to share with his crew. _

"_Is he always this high maintenance?" I asked the kid that had been filming earlier._

"_Oh this is pretty tame; when we did the exclusive with Brady Barr in Africa, well let's just say that his desire to get water buffalo up close and personal lead to one invading his tent." He laughed._

_Great, I knew this gig was a mistake when I turned up this morning. I'll kill Rosie for talking me into it._

"_Wonderful, that ass is going to get someone killed. If it turns out to be me, I'll be pissed."_

_Eventually the chatter died down and everyone left for their respective tents. I reminded them about not eating in them, nor leaving any foodstuffs or wrappers. It wasn't just to stop the bears coming in, but I despised littering. I added another log to the fire and lay back to stare at the stars. _

_I must've fallen asleep quite rapidly, as the last thing I remembered were the bright stars shinning in the sky. A soft breeze caressed my cheeks in contrast with the heady warmth of the nearby fire. _

_The sense of peace was harshly broken by the sound of high pitched screaming accompanied by running footsteps. I mumbled under my breath, "Put the dog out Rosie," before turning in my bedroll to see what the fuss was about. _

_The sight that graced my eyes will forever be embedded in my memories. The punk ass director was running from his tent in the grimiest pair of briefs I had ever seen, screaming bloody murder. I choked on a laugh. A snort from behind me drew my attention and I looked over my shoulder and spotted the kid from earlier, camera in hand, trying desperately not to laugh out loud. _

"_Oh my god, I'm gonna send this into Americas funniest Animals." He giggled. Yeah the kid giggled._

_I looked back at what he was laughing at as a relatively small black bear cub poked its head out of the director's tent. A pair of his torn trousers wrapped around its head and one of his no doubts, expensive hiking boots dangling by its laces in its mouth. _

_Ok, well that answers that question. "Hmm, so we've found baby, but what I want to know, is where is mama bear?" I questioned quietly. _

_Just then a loud roar sounded from where that idiot had run off to minutes before. '_Shit'_._

"_Follow me, but keep quiet," I said softly to the kid._

_He nodded in response._

_We approached the sound of the roar. We didn't need to go far, barely 40ft away we found the source of the commotion. Balanced precariously up a Douglas fir was both the idiot in his under-panted glory and mama bear trying to shimmy her way along the branch to bite his sorry ass._

_I shook my head and turned to the camera. "Ladies and gentlemen, bear safety 101, if a bear comes into camp, don't climb a tree."_

_The kid snorted and motioned for me to continue. Perhaps this gig wasn't as bad as I thought._

"_Black bears are omnivorous, and at this moment our director's rump is look particularly appetising," I continued. _

"_Get this bear away from me!" he screamed suddenly. Mama bear roared in response inching closer to him along the creaking branch. _

"_Easier said than done," I mumbled under my breath._

_Just then baby came barrelling towards us, complete with hiking boot and trousers dragging behind it. Mama bear had gotten close enough now to tag the director on the ass. He yelped, more in surprise than pain, as she'd been distracted by her cub's appearance. I snorted under my breath; the wrath of this idiot later on would be worth this a million times over._

"_Step back slowly, mama's coming down. We don't need to be in her way," I muttered. _

_With my hand gently pushing the kid behind me, we stepped away from the tree as mama bear gracefully... for a bear, climbed down from the tree and was reunited with her cub. A series of grumbles and growls were exchanged between them before she loped away back into the brush of the forest. _

"_Beautiful," I murmured to the camera. _

"_Yeah," the kid replied dreamily._

"_Well I guess he got his bear," I said while smirking at the camera._

_The quiet of the night engulfed us once more as we looked back up the tree. The idiot had passed out and was dangling over the branch as if he'd fallen asleep on horseback. _

"_What about sleeping beauty up there?" the kid muttered, his camera zooming in for a closer inspection. _

"_Well, we could leave him up there till the morning, or we could save on the future headache and get him down now. Just so you know I'm in favour of the first one," I replied, an evil grin spreading across my face. _

_Sure he would be unbearably pissed, but oh it would be so worth it._

_The kid smirked in response, "Guess he stays there then." Before he turned on his heel and headed back to the camp. By the time we arrived everyone was up and mingling around the disaster zone that was formerly the directors tent. Looking through the gaping doorway I was met by what could only be described as complete chaos. Bedding was ripped and tossed everywhere; scraps of food, and clothing littered the ground. I bent to inspect the remains of his pack; candy wrappers and jerky were strewn haphazardly inside and out. _

_I stood again and turned to the crew behind me. _

"_Like I said earlier, no eating in the tents, just because the director is an idiot, doesn't give you all free reign to follow in his wake. So if you have any food in your tents, now is the time to clear it up and get it out. I do not want a repeat of this," I said, gesturing to the devastation behind me._

_The crowd cleared almost instantly. With loud murmuring and a sense of urgency they all fled to their tents to clear out any tasty treats that they had. _

"_Why me, what did I do to deserve this?" I sighed to myself._

_The next morning as we broke down camp, we were interrupted from our merry ways by the high pitched screams of the idiot up the tree. I shrugged, shook my head and continued to pack up my gear. Five more minutes would not hurt him. _

_Once I'd finished I walked over to the small clearing the tree resided in only to be faced with the punk, still in his underpants clinging to the tree for dear life. I smiled up at him. _

"_Morning," I called. "Sleep well?"_

"_Sleep well? Sleep well?" he bellowed angrily. _

"_Guess that's a no then."_

"_Just get me the hell down from here." _

"_Sure, anything you say."_

"_I'm on to you McCarty." He snarled._

"_Hey, you're the one who climbed the tree."_

_After quite a struggle, I eventually managed to get him down. Of course he didn't thank me, he was furious. I apparently misrepresented myself as a bear expert, because a bear still attacked him. I laughed in his face. He stormed off to the camp, the tattered remains of his underpants, complete with claw shaped tears across his ass, draping from his body._

_It wasn't long before he was shouting again, for one the cub had run off with his pants and he now only had one hiking boot. _

"_Didn't you bring a change of clothes with you?" I asked. _

"_Of course you idiot, but I only have one boot and that god awful animal ate my candy."_

"_So you were eating in your tent last night and then thought it would be logical to climb a tree when a bear, a bear that I warned you wouldn't resist investigating any food type scents, paid you a visit." I shook my head._

"_Don't you blame me! If you had done your job with the Bear whispering voodoo stuff, I wouldn't be in this situation."_

"_Look..." I started through gritted teeth, "I gave everyone the same safety talk, it's not my fault you're an idiot. I am NOT your personal bodyguard, baby sitter or lackey, so shut up, grow a pair and pack up your gear, if you're not ready in 10 minutes we'll leave you behind."_

_I fumed; he was really trying my patience. Clenching my fists I stormed from the camp and took a seat at the small spring. Never again Rosie, never ever ever again._

_Thankfully the idiot was ready when we were. I would've made good on my threat to leave without him. We joined the trail and headed back towards civilisation. Throughout the walk the idiot jumped and squealed at the slightest noise or stirring of branches. It made for some amusing banter amongst the crew. We finally reached the parking lot in the late afternoon. The kid with the camera and a few of the crew guys parted with good wishes and promises to stay in contact. The idiot couldn't get out of there fast enough. So much for me being the next big thing._

_I climbed into my Jeep and headed home to my Rosie. _

_Six months later, life had pretty much gone back to normal. I spent most of my days at the National Park; I was working with rangers on a bear tagging programme. The kid, who had filmed our expedition, had turned out to be a genius: the footage from the trip had been used by National parks as a bear education resource. While I wasn't the next Croc hunter, or Brady Barr or whatever, I was now the voice of reason in a nationwide Bear Safety video. The execs at the TV Station had gotten wind of the 'idiot's' actions during the filming and he was moved on to in house editing. He was too much of a nightmare to let out in public. The kid, who had later told me his name was Seth, was now directing his own Nature Documentaries and I couldn't be happier for him. _

_As for the story of what happened on our trip, that would grace the ears of many during dark evenings seated around a fire pit. I'm Emmett McCarty – Bear Hunter, and that was my story._

"**Right kids, time for bed," I stated firmly, but with a smile.**

"**Okay Ranger Em," replied little Isabella with a yawn. **

**I smiled widely and mussed her hair. **

"**Before you head to the tents kids, what are the rules?"**

"**Don't roam the woods. Stay in the camp," replied Jasper a serious look on his face.**

"**And..."**

"**No food in the tents," responded Alice with a small giggle. **

"**And..."**

"**Clean as you go, no littering," added Isabella, blushing in the firelight.**

"**And..."**

"**If there's a bear in camp, don't climb a tree," Edward said with a grin. "Oh, and don't forget your pants."**

**I laughed at his addition. "And always tell me where you're going. Even if it's just the bathroom," I said.**

"**Yes Em!" they replied in unison.**

"**Okay, off to bed." **

**They all traipsed off to the tents together; Edward and Jasper had one, Isabella and Alice the other. As always, I had my bedroll around the fire pit. **

"**Night Em," they called. The camp ground becoming silent, the only sounds coming from the small brook nearby and the cicadas chirping a jovial tune. Fire crackled, trees swayed and I was lulled into slumber by the sounds of the wilderness and the dreamlike whimpers of the four children, sleeping under canvas nearby.**


	59. One Shot from Grendelsmother

**Penname**: Grendelsmother

**Title**: Hot for Teacher

**Pairing**: Rosalie and Emmett

**Rating**: S for Snark :)

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Worst date ever. Ever. Ever.

I should've known better. I'd had a policy for ages that I would never get involved with the parent of a student. I mean, it would be irresponsible. How could a 5-year-old ever understand Mr. McCarty showing up for dinner, going to a movie with Mommy, or, God forbid, seeing Mr. McCarty kiss Mommy? And then there would be the inevitable "Are you my daddy now?" kind of drama in class. Or even worse, the "YOU'RE NOT MY DADDY!" drama in class. There was enough 5-year-old drama in a kindergarten class of 20.

But Tanya was an aunt, so I thought, "What the hell?" She was hot in a slightly trashy way. It turned out that the trashiness ran really deep. She latched onto my neck in the local Pizza Inn and Hoovered a big old purple hickey right on my neck. In front of a parent from school. At least one that I _saw_. And then told me that I was probably gay in a ridiculous display of drama. A hussy hissy. A strumpet trumpet. The Black Speech of Whoredor.

Yes, that last one's a _Lord of the Rings_ reference. I'm a nerd. So what?

You just can't imagine the eyes on us in the middle of the freakin' Pizza Inn. It's a small town, and everybody knows Mr. McCarty. I'm a male kindergarten teacher who's built like a linebacker in a town of 10,000 people. I stand out.

I suppose you're going to ask, so I might as well tell the story. I come from a long line of teachers. My great-grandmother, my grandmother, my mother. My father was out of the picture from the time I was very small, so I didn't really remember him too much, except that he was very angry most of the time. I spent afternoons in my mother's classroom, summer breaks helping her plan for the next school year. I always got to know her students, even babysat for some of them. When I got older, I volunteered for Big Brothers/Big Sisters. I'd always been around kids, and I liked it that way. Kids were simple, easier than adults in a lot of ways. I'd never wanted to be anything other than a teacher, no matter how many people thought it was weird. I spent most of college being the only guy in my classes, which, let's face it, made for some pretty awesome dating odds.

I was happy as a teacher, happy being surrounded by kids. But there were responsibilities that meant I had to behave a certain way in public. And being mauled by a redhead in the middle of a pizza joint where children had their birthday parties really wasn't part of that picture.

And now, it was Monday, and I was dressed in a freakin' turtleneck sweater in front of my kids. I looked ridiculous. Like a character in freakin' _Zoolander_. We were going to read _If I Ran the Zoo_ at storytime today, but then...Derek Zoolander. Blue steel. Reminders that I looked like a model in a circa-1994 Structure ad. I couldn't even remember when I bought this sweater. Probably college, since it was way too small.

For extra shits and giggles, when I walked into the teacher's lounge this morning for a cup of coffee, I was greeted with a chorus of "oohs" and "aahs" and snickers.

Clearly the scene at Pizza Inn on Saturday had been widely circulated. "I heard she was on your neck like a vampire." "I heard she threw a drink on you." "I heard you guys were making out in the middle of a Pizza Inn. In front of everyone." "Can you blame her?"

I didn't look up until that last comment, which pretty much silenced the room for me. Most of my coworkers are older than I am, and the blushes went around the room. I couldn't tell who had said it, though.

I said, "Yes, ladies, I had a date. It was a disaster that will not be repeated. Now, if you will excuse me, I'm going to take my coffee and what's left of my dignity back to my classroom. The teacup humans will be trickling in soon."

I tried to leave the room with my head held up, but after I opened the door, I heard, "Nice turtleneck," and the giggling started all over. I sighed deeply. It was going to be a long, long day.

The walk to my classroom started to lengthen. I had barely walked halfway when I heard, "Hi, Mr. McCarty! You look like Superman!"

"Good morning, Leslie! How's my favorite redhead this morning?" I said, wincing, reminding of the disastrous redhead of Friday night.

More giggles. This day was going to be just filled with them, clearly.

"Fine, Mr. McCarty. I gots a new hairbow!"

"And it's quite lovely. What makes you say I look like Superman?"

"Your boobies, Mr. McCarty. You gots big boobies just like Superman!"

"We don't comment on other people's bodies, Leslie. You know that," I said. She giggled some more. "And when you're talking about a man, you call them pecs. Short for pectorals. That's the name of that muscle."

"YOU GOTS BIG PELTS," she screeched and ran, giggling, toward her classroom.

"WE DON'T RUN IN THE HALL, EITHER, LESLIE!" I called after her, but she'd already disappeared around the corner. At least she wasn't mine.

I looked down at my sweater, and I had to admit that Leslie had a point. I just had no idea what the hell I was supposed to wear to cover up a hickey. I hadn't had this problem since high school. You know, back when it was okay to wear a turtleneck sweater. It's not like I had a batch of ascots for just this very situation. What 32-year-old man has to worry about hickeys?

Apparently whoever's dating a woman with a suction power of 1,000 mbar. That's who. The woman would give Dyson a run for their money.

My classroom felt like a refuge. No other teachers. No visitors. Well, until the volunteer reader came in later. Hopefully no jokes on my behalf.

I walked my coffee over to my desk and opened the blinds wider to let in the morning sun. And just like that, the door opened and my first kid came in.

"Hi, Ethan."

"Hi, Mr. McCarty."

"You know what to do."

Ethan hung up his coat, put his lunch in his cubbie, and took a seat on the rug. All us kindergarten teachers had rugs for circle time, and mine was a huge map of the world. Ethan took a seat in the middle of Asia.

"You want a book, Ethan?"

He nodded quickly. Ethan was one of my more eager readers. I smiled and walked over to the long shelf under the whiteboard. "Let's see. Let's see. A book for Ethan. Hmmmm..."

Ethan giggled behind me. "Can I have one about Henry?"

"A book about Henry the cat. Let's see. Do I have any of those?"

"YES! YES! You do! RIGHT THERE!"

"Here?" I stopped two books to the right of Henry. "No, that's not Henry, silly. That's _The Cat in the Hat_."

"Other way!"

"OH. You mean this one." I stopped on _No, David_.

"NO! In the MIDDLE," he said.

"OH. Right here," I said, and scooped up _Hot Air Henry_.

Ethan took it enthusiastically. I smiled. That kid was so much fun to have in my class. Always happy and ready to go.

The door opened and the regular morning trickle began. They arrived in clumps, a few being walked by parents who had lunch money to drop off or who had questions about things. Or ones who just refused to let their kids have some independence and responsibility. I'd asked many times for them to let the kids come in on their own. There were several who had to go through some separation anxiety all through morning circle time. I'd taught long enough to know that if Mom and Dad would just let the kid do some things on their own, it would really help. They just had to put up with some discomfort for a few days, a week tops. But some parents just couldn't seem to do it. Like this parent.

"Good morning, Mrs. Cullen."

"Good morning, Mr. McCarty."

"What can I do for you this morning?" I was pretty sure she'd just tell me that her daughter Renee just couldn't POSSIBLY walk down the hall all by herself.

"I was supposed to come in this afternoon for reading, but I'm just not going to have time. I have a doctor's appointment this afternoon, and if I come in at 1:00, then I'm pretty sure that I won't be able to make it."

"Okay." Guess I'd be doing reading time this afternoon. I was supposed to be grading papers.

"But I talked to my sister-in-law, and she should be able to take my place," she said. I was surprised. Mrs. Cullen usually couldn't see past the end of her own nose. The fact that she would do something thoughtful was a little like watching a dog in a tutu walking on its hind legs.

"Oh, excellent. Thanks so much," I said, and turned to the parent behind her, Mr. Shah, to get his son's lunch money.

Mrs. Cullen bent down to Renee, a kid who was already a handful. "Bye-bye Renee! Bye-bye sweetheart! Oh, I'm just going to miss you so much!" She hugged her tight, and Renee dutifully squeezed out two big fat tears. "Oh, don't cry or I'll cry!"

Oh, yeah. That was helpful.

"Renee, go have a seat on the rug. Mrs. Cullen, could I see you in the hallway?"

She was actually sniffling. It was January, for the love of Pete. It was time to get used to the routine.

We stepped out into the hall. "I know we've talked about this before, but I really want to tell you how much it will help if you let Renee come on in on her own."

"But she's so SMALL!" Mrs. Cullen was beginning to wail.

"And this is a very safe place filled with people she knows and people who will help her get where she's going if she needs it. Her mornings have a tendency to be a little rough when she sees you get upset about leaving her here. You can see where that would be logical, right?"

She nodded, all brown eyes and blinking.

"So tomorrow morning, let's try something different. I want you to pull up to the front of the school in the line with everyone else, and let her out of the car, and watch her come in on her own. She'll seem like she's growing as she walks. You won't believe how well she'll do."

"I'll...I'll try," she said, blinking absurdly fast to keep the tears from falling, and she turned to rush dramatically down the hall.

Somehow I knew I'd be seeing her again tomorrow morning. I turned back into the classroom, where Renee was trying to snatch Ethan's book away from him. "Renee! Absolutely not! Ethan's reading that book, and there's plenty for everyone. There are even other books about Henry the cat if you want to get up to look."

"Bring it to me," she said, lower lip already pouting.

"No, ma'am," I said firmly. "I am greeting your classmates. You can browse the shelves like everyone else."

She tried to turn on the waterworks. "No, ma'am," I repeated. Immediately the lip stopped, and she stomped up to the shelves to find a book. Like I said, she was a handful.

The last few kids trickled in as the bell rang. It looked like I was only missing a couple of kids, one who had a habit of coming in five minutes late. We settled in to do our morning work. In this case, we were having some circle time working on our first steps into the wonderful world of subtraction. We'd just started the subject last week, but a few were getting it. A few were a little more "two minus one is blue!" but they'd come around. At least a couple of those kids were more visual learners, and I'd spend a little time with them in the math center showing them how it worked with manipulatives. I'd already scheduled them into the math centers today.

After I introduced them to the weekly sight words we'd be working on for the week, it was time for the kids to have art. Our school had grown so much that we didn't have an art room for the time being, so the art teacher came to us. Mrs. White came in and I groaned silently. Painting. Inevitable mess.

Mrs. White winked at me and leisurely scratched her neck. Great. Everyone's a comedienne.

I decided I'd grade a few papers. The kids had handed in their alphabet man papers on Friday, and I hadn't gotten a chance over the weekend to grade them, what with the date with the human Hoover and the unavoidable extra time at the gym working off the aggravation and humiliation of the whole thing. The exercise probably didn't help my man-boobies seem any smaller today.

After art, the kids got center time before lunch. I made sure I spent a little extra time in the math center, showing some of the kids with tiny plastic bears how subtraction worked. "So, if these three bears are fishing and one decides he's had enough..." I trotted the bear away. "...how many of his friends are left?" One of the two kids looked at me blankly, but the other one reached out a chubby little hand to count. "One...two. TWO!" Her face lit up, and I knew she'd gotten it. The best part of teaching.

It took another four or five minutes to get the other kid to get it, but we got there. I patted both kids on the back and said, "There you go, kiddos. Good jobs!"

I made my way around the centers, making sure everyone else was playing nicely. They actually were, for once. We had an art center that I'd set up today with clay, cookie cutters, tools both from my kitchen at home and other things I'd found that I thought would make neat patterns in the clay. Most of the kids at this age would make two-dimensional pieces, and that was fine. Occasionally I'd stop by and chat, showing the kids how they could make something three-dimensional, like a duck. But I didn't really have time today. We were sneaking up on lunch, and the aide would be here soon to take them.

"All right, my learners! Lunch is soon! We've got about five more minutes until center time is over, so make 'em count!"

I stopped by the home center, where there was a pretend kitchen, clothes to dress up in. One kid had taken several scarves and stuffed them into the thrift store sweater I kept in there. "I'm Mr. McCarty!" he told me proudly when I stuck my head in.

Great. Boobies.

The other centers – woodworking and reading – were working smoothly as well. I glanced at my clock. Our time had run down, and I began to count out the last few seconds, "Ten...nine...eight..." The kids liked to try to count backwards with me, but there were really only a few that could do it. The others just kind of shouted along in rhythm as they put things away. Mostly, it sounded a lot like "WAH...WAH...WAH..." It reminded me of the adults in the Peanuts cartoons.

The aide showed up to man the cafeteria table, opening bags of Cheetos and poking straws into Capri Suns, so that I could head over to the lounge for lunch. I brought it back to my classroom. I was pretty sure I couldn't take another round with my coworkers.

I was about halfway through my sandwich when there was a knock at the door. "Come on in," I said, with my mouth mostly full. The door swung open, and there was the most beautiful girl standing there, all golden hair and blue eyes and lips that you just wanted to touch. I swallowed hard, and proceeded to choke a little before I grabbed my Coke to wash it down. "Sorry," I sputtered.

She raised her eyebrows. "Mr. McCarty?"

"Yes? Can I help you?"

She reached out her hand. "I'm Rosalie Hale. Renee Cullen's aunt. I'm here to do the afternoon reading."

I took her hand and couldn't help but notice how silky her skin was.

"Um...um...yes! Yes! Mrs. Cullen told me that you'd be taking her place this afternoon. I'm afraid you're a little early. The kids are in the lunchroom. You could probably join Renee if you'd like."

"That's all right. I love her dearly, but that's a lot of kids to take at once," she said.

I nodded. "I know what you mean sometimes."

She raised an eyebrow again.

"I mean...I mean...I spend all day with them. I like the break from all the noise, you know?"

She nodded, and we sat in uncomfortable silence while I chewed. Well, it wasn't quite silent, and I got a little embarrassed by my own noise. I wrapped up the sandwich before I'd finished.

"You don't have to stop on my account. You haven't even finished half of your sandwich yet," she said.

"I feel weird eating in front of you. I can eat it later, during recess or something," I said.

"Well, I suppose we can talk about my niece if it makes you feel more comfortable," she said.

I really didn't think that my truthful feelings about her niece would make for good conversation with a woman that made me feel tingly in my no-no parts.

"Umm..." I said. Eloquent.

She laughed. "She's a handful, isn't she? She's quite spoiled, you know."

"Umm..." I said. I could hear Admiral Ackbar in my head. _It's a trap! _

She seemed to know what I was thinking. "I see her very clearly, Mr. McCarty."

"You can call me Emmett," I blurted.

She nodded once. "Emmett," she repeated. Damn, that sounded good. "She's the only child in the family right now. So she gets doted on by all of us, I'm afraid. But really, my brother and his dear Bella are worse than any of us."

"Not enough limits?" I said.

"Try no limits. I try to get them to discipline the child. No one will really listen to me about it. Sometimes Renee calls me the No Lady." She laughed, a beautiful sound that, no matter how cliché it was, really did sound like a bell.

I laughed too. "Well, you're doing her a favor. She certainly has limits here, but you can tell that she doesn't really enjoy playing by the rules. Some days she's a little...challenging."

"You mean some days she's a right little bitch?" Her eyes twinkled.

I held up my hands in defense. "I'm not going to touch that one."

She laughed. "It's fine. Like I said, I see her pretty clearly. That doesn't mean I don't love her just as much as my brother and his wife."

She didn't really seem to particularly like her sister-in-law. I could certainly see how different they were. One was sweet and overly emotional and, really, a little weak, if I were going to be honest with myself. I mean, she couldn't seem to handle her five-year-old. Rosalie Hale, on the other hand, seemed like she'd be comfortable commanding an army.

"What do you do, Ms. Hale?"

"I believe we agreed earlier on first names. I'm Rosalie. I run a restaurant. Head chef."

"I see. Well, that explains a lot," I said.

Again with the eyebrow. It kind of made me want to go take my place on the rug with a "Yes, ma'am!"

"I mean, you seem to be an in-charge kind of person," I tried to explain.

She laughed. "Most people would use the word 'bitch.' In fact, most do. That word is pretty common in my kitchen, actually."

"That's a little harsh, I think. I like a strong woman." I could feel the blush spreading up my neck to my face. Great. Maybe the tension will make my nipples hard. That'll look good in my Ken doll sweater. I could feel them starting to harden. _No! Stop! Don't do it! _

"Um...nice sweater," she said. She was looking right at my Superman boobies. It was clear she was working quite hard to not laugh.

"It's old. I don't think I'd realized this morning exactly how tight it was," I said.

"And what exactly made you think that it was a good choice?" she said, those sexy lips pressed together, holding back a laugh.

And then...disaster. The door opened, and my best work friend, Jessica, the librarian, stuck her head in the door. "How am I the last person to see this infamous sweater? I want to see the hickey! I don't think I've seen one since I was seventeen!" she started laughing. Then she saw Rosalie sitting there. With the eyebrow that seemed to be constantly raised in my presence. Her face flushed red. "Oh, I didn't realize you had a parent here. I am SOOOOO sorry!" She certainly looked sorry. I thought she might cry for a second.

"Jessica, this is Rosalie Hale. Rosalie, this is Jessica Stanley, our librarian," I said, trying to gather any dignity I could muster. I was pretty much out of dignity at this point.

Rosalie stood and walked toward Jessica. She looked like a mountain lion on the prowl. Hot. "Hello, Ms. Stanley. I'm Renee Cullen's aunt. Rosalie Hale."

Jessica stared at her as if she were an alien. "Um...I'm so sorry to interrupt. Mr. McCarty and I are friends, and I just stopped by..."

Rosalie raised a hand. "If I had a friend in his thirties who'd come to work with both a hickey and that ridiculous sweater, I'd have to tease, too. In fact, I'd just started, and I've known Mr. McCarty for, what, five minutes now?"

Jessica sighed with relief. "I know, right? I mean, could that sweater _be_ any tighter?"

Rosalie laughed again, and I stood. "Well, Jessica, it was nice for you to stop by. I'll see you later, then. Okay, bye-bye."

Both of the woman laughed heartily. "I'm sorry, Em. Want to play tennis later?"

"Sure, sure...just...get out!"

"It was nice meeting you, Ms. Hale."

"Likewise."

I heard the sounds of feet stomping up the hallway. "Incoming, Mr. McCarty!" Jessica said as she left. I was going to have to kick her ass on the tennis court this afternoon.

I glanced toward Rosalie. Her face was pink from trying not to laugh. "It's a long story," I mumbled.

"AUNTIE ROSE!" Renee shrieked from the doorway. She threw herself into Rosalie's lap.

"Hi, there, baby girl. Why don't you try using that inside voice for me?" She looked over Renee's head and rolled her eyes at me.

"Your aunt's here to read, Renee. Why don't you join your classmates on the rug?"

Renee looked at me and then glanced up at her aunt, clearly asking her if she had to listen to me. "I think you should listen to your teacher, Renee."

Renee's face instantly darkened, and she stomped off to throw herself down on the rug. Face down. So that she took up the space of about five kindergarten butts. "Renee," I said, letting the full weight of the teacher tone come into my voice. She sat up slowly, like an infant zombie. "You know, you'll trip over that lip if you keep it stuck out like that." She sucked both lips in dramatically, so that both were rolled completely back into her mouth.

"Hey, we could use you at family dinners," Rosalie said softly.

"That would be nice," I said without thinking. _Motherfucker, what are you doing?_

I glanced at Rosalie out of the corner of my eye. Her face had gone pink again, but she didn't say anything. That couldn't be a bad sign, right?

"Any idea what you'd like to read?" I asked her, just trying to get as far away from the comment I'd just made as possible.

"Ummm..."

"You can pick anything from the shelves around the room. Parents usually read three or four books, for about half an hour total."

The natives were getting restless. "Kids, right now is quiet time. Ms. Hale, Renee's aunt..."

"MY aunt," Renee blurted.

"...Yes, Renee's aunt, is going to start reading in about ten minutes, so for now, why don't you all lie back and have a little quiet time. I'm going to shut off the lights..." I walked over to the switch, flipped the lights, and gestured for Rosalie to start looking around the shelves. She shook herself a little and scurried over to a shelf. "...And you're going to lie back for a little while and let those tummies work over your lunch. Okay?"

There were murmurs, but most of the kids did as they were told. Except Renee, of course.

"Renee, I know you're excited about your aunt being here, but you need to rest for a minute, too. Let's show Auntie Rose what you do every day." She pouted for a second, wanting to argue, but at the same time wanting to show off for Auntie Rose, even if it was just to show her how thoroughly she could pretend to sleep. She threw herself backward so that her head thumped on the rug, and squeezed her eyes shut, her eyelids trembling with the effort.

I walked over to Rosalie to see if she needed any help. She already had three books in her hand. _Where the Wild Things Are_, _The Stinky Cheese Man_, and, God help me, _The Gas We Pass_. "Wow. You're trying to kill me this afternoon."

She looked at me and raised the eyebrow. I was getting pretty familiar with this expression. "I mean, you're going to get them all riled up and then I'll have to try to teach them over the giggles."

She smiled, a sexy little half smile. "Well, you did say it was _my_ choice, didn't you?"

"Yeah, yeah. Your choice."

She giggled quietly. "I can pick something a little less...rambunctious...if you like," she said. It sounded like a purr. And I'd never heard the word "rambunctious" be quite so arousing. Which was unfortunate, because I was wearing ridiculous clothes in a room full of five-year-olds.

"No, no...it's your choice, like I said. I'm, um, going to go grade a few papers. Let me know when you've made your final selections."

I made my way over to my desk, hoping that I wouldn't pop wood in the middle of my classroom. I didn't normally let the parent readers pick their own books. I usually carefully selected them myself, starting with something funny and attention-grabbing to hook them on the reading, then moving to something exciting, adventurous, and ending with something quiet, like you'd read to your kid at bedtime. Not that I had kids of my own. Not yet. But I had to admit, I was curious what this woman would pick to read. Really, really curious.

I pulled out the alphabet man homework again. The drill was pretty simple: they colored the alphabet man, then came up with items that began with that letter. They brought one item in, and drew three more on the page. In this case, it was Jumping Joe, a letter J with face, arms, and legs, jumping in the air and clicking his feet together. Ethan's page was on top, and he had colored Joe blazing orange, with green shoes and purple hair. His items were "juice," "jungle," and "jaguar." Pretty sure he had help on that last one, but I didn't mind that. He'd brought in a jingle bell to go along with his sheet. All in all, pretty good work. I got through maybe two or three more sheets before Rosalie came up with her final selections.

The first three were the same books, but she'd added a quieter book, _The Kissing Hand_, to the pile. It was just the right blend. I smiled to myself.

"Ready to face the firing squad?" I asked.

She nodded, fixing me with a really strange, soft sort of look. I wasn't at all sure what that meant.

"All right," I said. "I'll let them know they can stop pretending to sleep." I said the last bit a little louder, and a chorus of giggles started up. "All right, munchkins! Wake up, wake up. It's time for reading."

They all sat up and immediately started talking and fidgeting. "I know, I know, being still is hard. Let's please be on our best behavior for Renee's aunt, all right?"

"MY aunt," Renee blurted again.

"That means you, too, Renee. Show Auntie Rose what a good girl you are at school." She nodded, lips pressed together again. "Good," I said. "Now, without further ado, let's welcome Ms. Hale to the rug." All the kids began stomping their feet on the floor. It was our class's traditional welcome to visitors.

"Well, thank you, kids," Rosalie said, and the chorus of foot stomps faded away. "I think we're going to start reading time with _The Stinky Cheese Man_. Do you guys know this book?"

Henry, a blond-haired, blue-eyed kid with big round Harry Potter-style glasses called out, "I do! I do! I love that book! YOU CAN'T CATCH ME, I'M THE STINKY CHEESE MAN!"

Rosalie smiled. "Well, it's one of my favorites. When we get to that part, will you guys help me? Will you all say that line when it's time?"

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" The word went around the mat. I had to admit, she was pretty good.

I tried to keep grading the papers. "Jambalaya. Joker. Juice. Juice. Jelly. Jell-o. Job. Japanese." Well, it was a pretty hard letter. There was always a lot of parental help on this one.

"YOU CAN'T CATCH ME, I'M THE STINKY CHEESE MAN!" echoed out from the rug. The kids were getting really into it. They were actually forgetting to talk. They were fidgeting, but they were five, so that was pretty much a given.

Jaguar. Again, although the kid had drawn a car this time. Jellyfish. Jar. Jack-o-lantern. That was a pretty darn good jack-o-lantern the kid had drawn. Melissa. Nice job, Melissa. Jet. Jacket. Jump rope. Jump rope again from someone else. All in all, the kids (and their parents) had done a nice job. Not too shabby.

After the Stinky Cheese Man fell apart in the river, and Rosalie pronounced it "The End," the kids started talking. A little too much. "All right, kids, we need to show Ms. Hale some respect. Let's button our lips," I said, and mimed buttoning my own. The kids all followed suit, some giggling as they always did.

"NOW," Rosalie said over the giggles, "We're going to read one of my absolute favorite books EVER. A very important, very educational book. _The Gas We Pass_." She paused for a while to let the laughing cease. All of the kids had read this one more than once. I'd occasionally get pissy little notes from parents, "I can't BELIEVE you'd let little Timmy read something with the word F-A-R-T in it," but I kept it on the shelf. Even my most reluctant readers would read that one, because it felt naughty.

I just didn't grade during this one. Not that I could have, even if I'd wanted. She had the kids in stitches. She made every kind of fart noise while reading. The elephant fart itself was a true masterpiece, one that any kid would be proud of. A couple of the kids were even rolling on the carpet they were laughing so hard. Usually I'd step in and stop the rowdiness, but the rowdier they got, the more Rosalie seemed to enjoy herself. She even laughed along with them a few times.

I couldn't take my eyes off her. I'd never seen anyone so beautiful in my whole life. The way she tilted her head when she laughed. The way she looked at all the kids, like each one was hers. The way she tucked a stray blonde curl behind her ear.

I was glad I had my desk to hide behind.

She let the kids have a few minutes to pull themselves together after she'd finished that one. She reached down into her bag to pull out a bottle of water. I was completely focused on her lips as she tilted it back and let the water trickle down her throat. Beautiful.

The giggling had mostly stopped...well, except for the occasional spasm here and there...by the time she held up her hand for quiet. Here's the weird thing: The kids actually got quiet when her hand went up. I'd never seen anything like it.

"Now we're going to read a classic. One of my favorites that I can remember my parents reading to me when I was a little girl. I'm going to read it just the way my mother always did. Are you guys ready?"

They all nodded eagerly. There was a little whispering, but nothing that required my intervention.

She leaned forward in her chair. "Without further ado," she said softly, glancing in my direction, "I bring you _Where the Wild Things Are_."

The kids actually leaned forward. She had them all eating from the palm of her hand. Usually parent reading time was a lot of work for me, but she had this thing down.

I watched her read my favorite book of all time. She was perfect. She could whisper and the kids would lean forward to catch every word. She roared with the Wild Things. "They ROARED their terrible ROARS!" And shouted with Max. "BE STILL!" It was the best performance of the book ever.

And when the last line of the book was said, softly, quietly, "And it was still hot," the kids actually clapped. THAT was definitely something I'd never seen before.

"Thank you so much. Now, for my last book..." The kids interrupted with a groan of protest. This was seriously unprecedented. "I know, I know, I'll be sad to be finished too. I'm having a good time," she said, and I could've sworn that she glanced my way again. She made my ears feel tingly.

"I'm going to read _The Kissing Hand_. Now, I'm sure that a lot of you were nervous when you started school, right?" Nods all around. "But I'm sure that you guys are old pros at this by now, right? Well, this story is about a little kid who's still at that very new place where school seems very scary."

"School is FUN!" Ethan blurted out.

"I always thought so, too," Rosalie said, very seriously. "But not everyone feels that way all the time. Now, why don't you all rest a little while I read?" Some of the kids went ahead and lay back on the carpet. She didn't seem to mind that they didn't all follow suit.

She launched into the story, all about a raccoon who didn't want to leave his mom to go to school. In the end, of course, it turns out that his mom misses him, too. She told the story softly, acting out the mother kissing her son's hand. A few more kids lay back on the carpet. I even felt my eyes start to get heavier.

When she finished the story, she closed the book softly, holding up the sign language "I love you" from the last page a little longer. She winked at Renee, who was quiet for once, and again glanced at me. I couldn't help but smile at her. She smiled back as her hand drifted softly back down to her lap.

Silence reigned for a few moments. It was very strange in my classroom. I didn't know this group could be silent. But she had them under her spell.

"Well, I hate to break the quiet, but I have to say I am quite proud of how nicely you behaved for Ms. Hale."

"My AUNTIE ROSE," said Renee, proudly.

"Let's all give Renee's Auntie Rose a big thank you."

"Thank you, Renee's Auntie Rose," the class repeated. At least, I think that's what they said. It was a jumble of noise.

"Now, if everyone will get into their small groups, we'll get started on our afternoon work," I said. They all jostled, making their way to the work tables around the room.

I made my way toward Rosalie. She was putting the books carefully back on their shelves.

"I've had a pretty disastrous dating experience recently," I said, seemingly out of nowhere. But I had to get it out before I chickened out.

"Hence the turtleneck?" she said.

"Um, yeah. Anyway, I'd told myself I'd never date a relative of a student again, but if I don't ask for your number, I'll regret it. Maybe forever," I said in a rush.

She was quiet for a while. Long enough to make me nervous. Long enough to make me wonder if my nipples were showing because I was nervous. Long enough to have to resist the urge to check.

"I think maybe I should give it to you," she said thoughtfully.

I reached back to grab a post-it from my desk. I managed to knock over my pencil mug. She bent to help me pick up everything that had fallen all over the floor. Our hands touched as we jammed pencils, pens, and crayons back into the mug. We both jerked our hands back as if we'd touched something hot. Or very cold.

She picked up the last pen. "Hold onto that one," I said, smiling a little.

I put the mug back on my desk as we both straightened back up. I handed her the tiny yellow pad and she wrote on it, ripped it off, and pressed it into my hand.

"Thanks for reading for us today. You have a real gift. I've never seen my class get so into it."

She blushed. "My mom was very into books, and she read to us a lot. I really learned from her."

"Well, I'd love to have you. I mean, back. Here. To read." God, what the fuck was wrong with me?

She blushed more. "I'd love to be had," she said, and looked into my eyes.

I knew I was totally showing nipple now.

"Well, Ms. Hale," I said, trying to muster up some dignity, "It was a pleasure meeting you."

"Rosalie," she corrected softly, and turned to leave.

"BYE, AUNTIE ROSE!" called Renee.

A chorus of "byes" came from around the room.

"Bye, Rosalie Hale," I said softly. I glanced at the post-it in my hand.

There was her number. Seven beautiful little digits. "See you soon, Mr. McCarty," the line below said. She'd drawn a little heart like in the end of _The Kissing Hand_.

"MR. McCARTY, IT'S TIME FOR AFTERNOON WORK!" bellowed Renee.

I put the post-it very carefully on my desk, pressing it into place so that it wouldn't move in a breeze and turned to try to come back down to the real world, a world that I hoped would have Rosalie in it. I was sure that she in no way resembled a Hoover. I was sure that she'd always understand my need to be with my kids. I was sure that she was going to be important for a long time.

I was sure that when I got home, I'd burn this sweater.


	60. One Shot by bsmog

**Pen name: **bsmog  
**Pairing: **Emmett/Rosalie  
**Rating: **T  
**Summary:** A boy, a girl, a tire swing and the importance of traditions. Expanded from a Twilight 25 entry from Prompt #21 here: community[dot]livejournal[dot]com/thetwilight25/13912[dot]html

Twilight and all recognizable characters therein belong to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

**Boy Meets Girl**

The girl stands at the foot of the tree by the river, contemplating the climb up the great trunk and out onto the branch where the rope hangs. At the bottom of this rope, there is a tire, and this is the place she must reach. She is stock-still except for her fists, which she clenches and unclenches at her sides.

She rode her bike to get here, a brand new, shiny blue two-wheeler that had been next to her chair this morning when she came downstairs for breakfast. Not a little kid's bike, but a real bike with gears and hand brakes. Her knees bear scrapes that look like the skins on the strawberries she'd had for breakfast, but she knows now what happens if you push the front brakes and not the back ones, and how you have to keep pedaling while you shift. She wears her cuts proudly, they are battle wounds to be shown off, not baby cuts to be hidden under bandages. She is too big for that now, and she told her mother so when she limped triumphantly into the kitchen after her last fall shouting, "I did it, Mama! I shifted and I didn't fall the last time!"

Her mother had smiled and insisted on cleaning the cuts, but had acquiesced to the request to leave them uncovered.

But this is different. This is the tree and the tire swing that have mocked her for two summers. All the kids in her class have jumped off of it except her. But after one especially embarrassing day last year, when the teacher (who assumed all the children in the class had jumped from the tree, as had been custom in the little town since he was a child) assigned the class to write a story about how they felt the first time they jumped and she tearfully had to admit that she never had and the kids had laughed at her and called her chicken, she vowed that on her birthday, she would do it. She would swing out over the muddy water and fling herself into the air just like everyone else.

So here she stands, staring at the tree, a lump rising in her throat because she realizes today is no different than any other day, and she is still afraid.

The boy, who watches her from a little way away, because it's obvious to him that she thinks she is alone and he doesn't want to scare her or make her mad, notices her fingers squeezing open and shut against her shorts. He notices, because his are perfect mirrors of hers, and he realizes that he knows that means she's scared, just like he is.

But he's pretty sure she isn't scared of the same thing he is. He's new to the town, his family moved in after school let out, so he hasn't met many of the other children yet. He's afraid because he has to start all over and make all new friends, and he doesn't know yet how he will do that.

He decides that this girl might be his friend, and he squares his small shoulders and draws himself up to his full height (almost five feet tall when he measured this morning on the measuring wall in the kitchen) and walks to her side.

She looks at him, and he realizes she is looking him straight in the eye, which causes him to shrink a bit. He didn't expect her to be as tall as he is, and he certainly didn't expect the mean glare in her eyes. But, he reasons, it's bright outside, and maybe she's just squinting in the sun, so he soldiers on.

"Don't be afraid," he says. It's fun once you get up there, I swear!" He squeaks a little as he speaks, and his face reddens, but he tries to smile in a way that he thinks might be friendly.

He means it as encouragement, but the girl, whose shame at being afraid is now only trumped by her shame that someone else knows, lashes out at him.

"I'm not afraid," she says hotly and scrunches up her face even more in a way that makes him sure she was not squinting before. "And who asked you anyways?"

The boy ducks his head when she speaks, and tears threaten to bubble up in his eyes. If this is making new friends, he's pretty sure he'll be very lonely in this new place.

The girl, who knows what it's like not to have many friends, is instantly sorry.

"Wait!" She calls to the boy, who has turned around and begun to trudge away from her, his head down.

He stops and turns, trying not to let hope creep back into his face. Maybe she's just going to say something else mean before she tells him to go away.

But she doesn't.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, and now tears threaten her eyes. "It's just...today is my birthday. I thought I wouldn't be afraid today, you know, because I'm older."

The boy nods. He thought he'd be bigger on his last birthday; he'd been bitterly disappointed when he woke up and ran downstairs, only to find the mark on the measuring wall was in exactly the same place it had been the day before. What good was a birthday if you didn't get bigger?

She takes a big breath and lets it out, looking back at the tree.

"I'm the only one in school that hasn't jumped off." Her lip quivers as her admission reminds her of her humiliation at school. "I have to do it this summer or all the kids will call me chicken."

The boy nods again, then smiles. His tears of a moment ago are forgotten, because he has an idea. And if it works, he might have a friend.

"It's okay. And it's okay if you're afraid. It is high." He tries to make himself sound brave. He's jumped a lot of times; his brothers are older than he is, so whatever they do, he wants to do. There had been a tire swing in the last town his family lived in too, and he jumped off of it for the first time when he was seven, just because his big brothers did.

"I'm Emmett," he says and he holds out his hand like he's seen his father do when he meets people, and like his mother makes him do when strangers come over. She looks at his hand for a second, then puts hers in his and they shake. The motion is big and exaggerated, but in the gesture, a bond is formed.

"I'm Rosalie," she says. "I'm 10 today." She adds this because she's told him it's her birthday, and it seems important that he know how old she is.

"I'm 11," he says proudly. He's pleased to be older, and he thinks maybe it might make her trust him a little. "That's a really nice bike." He gestures toward her blue bike leaning on a smaller tree nearby. "Was it a present?"

She nods and beams.

"It's really cool. I just have my big brother's old bike, but it's pretty fast, and he helped me paint it so it looks new." He smiles a little sheepishly, thinking maybe he shouldn't have told her that last part. But she smiles back, and Emmett's smile breaks into a grin. He's pretty sure he's just made a friend.

"I'll jump with you," he says. "Then maybe it won't be as scary, you know, because I'll climb up there too so you won't be all by yourself? You can hold my hand if you're afraid." He puts in that last because, when he's afraid, his brothers or his mother sometimes take his hand, and when they do, he feels better. He doesn't know why, whatever is scaring him is still there, but knowing there's somebody else with him always seems to help. Maybe it will help her.

Rosalie bites her lip, looking at the tree again, and finally nods.

"Okay," she says. "You promise you won't let me fall?"

He nods seriously and holds out his hands for her to use as her first step up into the tree.

"You're my friend," he says, "I promise I won't let you fall."

-0-0-0-

The girl stands at the foot of the tree, as she has every year for seven years, biting her thumbnail and looking up at the height that never seems to get any less terrifying no matter how much older or taller she is. Another blue bike, this one sleek and shiny with gears and complicated pedals with the shoes still clipped to them, leans carefully against another tree, and her shorts and t-shirt hang from its handlebars.

The boy stands some distance away, quietly watching the flex of her calves and the arch of her neck as she looks up. Her long blond hair, usually so perfectly groomed, is piled messily on top of her head, and her skin is lightly-freckled from the summer sun. He stands transfixed, even though he's seen her nearly every day since they first met here on this very spot seven years ago, and even though she's been beautiful every single one of those days, because he's the only one who gets to see her like this, and he doesn't want to break the spell.

On Emmett's first day at school, Rosalie dragged him around the playground by the hand, introducing him to every kid in her class and his, and it didn't seem to matter that he was older. She knew everyone and approached every group in the schoolyard saying, "This is my friend Emmett. He's new and he's nice and you should be his friend too."

And somehow it worked, and yesterday, when Emmett graduated from high school and Rosalie sat in the audience with his parents and smiled and clapped while he and his friends clapped each other on the back and hooted and hollered, he knew he owed every smile to her.

He smiles as he watches her chew her lip and mutter something under her breath, and instinctively shifts towards her just a step or two, and a twig breaks under his foot. She turns gracefully and smiles, knowing he'd be there because this is what they do after school gets out.

He smiles back and walks to her side, arms crossed over his chest, and looks up into the branches.

"Don't be afraid," he says quietly, just as he has every year. "It's fun once you get up there, I swear."

She leans into him as she falls into the ritual, and he puts an arm around her shoulder as she settles her head on his chest.

"I'm not afraid. And who asked you anyway?"

He looks down into beautiful eyes and plants a soft kiss on her lips before resting his forehead against hers for a moment. Everything will change for them after this summer, when he goes to college to play ball and study pre-law and she stays behind for one more year of high school, but for a few more perfect months they have this, and it's important that the summer traditions be upheld.

So he releases his hold on her arm and looks back up appraisingly before turning back to her.

Just as he has every year, the boy holds out his hand and the girl takes it.

And knowing that this year, maybe the words mean just a little bit more, Emmett squeezes her fingers and whispers, "I'll jump with you, to make it less scary. And I promise I won't let you fall."

And one last time the boy and the girl climb the tree hand in hand, grinning at each other when they get to the top, squeezing tangled fingers together and laughing breathlessly as they count to three and jump.


	61. One shot by Winterstale and Rosmarina

**Title**: _Angelus ex Abyssus: The Operatic Death and Life of Rosalie Hale_

**Summary**: Salve Regina. She is his life, sweetness and hope. Angelus ex Abyssus. He is her death, solution and dream. Rosalie and Emmett open the door and flee.

**Pen names:** _Winterstale and Rosmarina_

**Primary Players**: _Emmett/Rosalie_

**Rating**: _M_

**Beta'd by:** _Viola Cornuta_

**Disclaimer**: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization.

**Winterstale: ** So, Ros, I was thinking maybe we could make Em and Rose's story into an opera. What do you think?

**Rosmarina:** Ooh, lotsa melodrama? Really vamp up the vamps?

**Winterstale: **Ooh, skeery vamps acting like real vamps and saying things in Italian! I think Rosalie would appreciate the dramatic re-telling. But no tights for Em.

**Rosmarina:** Skeery vamps? Italian? High-drama and lotsa angst? Let's do it!

**Winterstale:** We've done everything else to him, why not? Wondertwin powers activate!

* * *

***Preludio***

_Steeply sloped tile rooftops and the spires of ages past flew by in a heartbeat, our speed intensifying the sharp night time chill in the February air. For me, there was no other sight but him. I reached with trembling fingers to touch the line of his jaw; I'd never found myself so completely besotted with a face other than my own. He was fierce, powerful, more beautiful than if Baglione himself had rendered the hard planes of his face or brushed the enticing curves of his full lips. I'd found a dream lover, and he was bearing me toward my end. The beautiful demon's arms were tight, protective, around me as he flew us to purgatory on his enormous black wings. I would do my penance; maybe he would stay with me as a guardian or even a companion. The hell I created might be bearable with a dark angel like him at my side._

_***Lo la Vidi E Il Suo Sorriso - Emmett***_

This castle was my prison.

I travelled its passageways unfettered, from catacombs to ramparts. I held the key to every door; no secret staircase or hidden entrance was closed to me. As trusted key keeper I should have felt command over this space.

Instead, I was its captive.

Whispers of movement murmured throughout the castle like the soft rustle of moth's wings as we prepared. In contrast were the echoed sounds of the aged stone building – the weighted creak of ponderous wooden doors and the metallic rasp and thud of tumblers clicking into place. I strode silently from room to room twisting ancient keys in timeworn locks. It was my task to secure our private quarters from unwanted eyes. We were _dining in_ tonight.

The familiar scent alerted me to her presence.

"Heidi," I greeted her cordially. "Shouldn't you be out gathering our guests?"

"Patience, _mi orso_." She trailed her fingertips along my arm with the familiarity of a lover. Heidi was… enticing. She had, of course, the ethereal beauty imparted upon all vampires who survived the change. Her mahogany hair was lustrous and full. Her figure was statuesque. Her voice was silky. Beyond that, she indulged in the invention of blue-tinted contact lenses that transformed her crimson eyes to a startling violet. She claimed it was a requirement of her duty to lure humans here for our meals. That she was never without them belied the small conceit.

She tipped her face up to me, and I obliged her with a perfunctory kiss on each cheek before she swept down the passageway towards the outer doors. Casual dalliances aside, she knew better than to expect affection or devotion from me. We were not mated. Heidi's bed was merely an acceptable outlet for the passions and angers hidden under lock and key within me.

I lingered in the private hall, purposely leaving it for last. Thirty-five years human and seventeen more vampire, I was barely more than a child, newborn, to the ageless immortals who surrounded me, as I was reminded by the collection of art and artifact housed here in this, my favorite room.

I wondered through the gallery, loitering. Here was a Roman mosaic in limestone and marble, a terra cotta warrior with his horse, and a tapestry depicting the Battle of Agincourt. There was a map of New World trade routes, an ornate Norse pendant shaped as Thor's hammer, and a stone calendar in Mayan hieroglyphs. Each piece was acquired during the era in which it was created, or so I was told. Before my change and recruitment into the Volturi guard, I cared little for the history of the big, wide world. Now, with an inhuman eternity before me, I found myself drawn to the temporal evidence of humanity the three Volturi Ancients had amassed.

There was even a tray of torture implements that both fascinated and horrified me. Imagine the _blood_ to be got with those. I felt the vague stirrings of thirst in my throat as I thought of it. The desire for human blood was so basic, so instinctual; I often wondered how any could deny the appetite. Yet some spoke quietly of one of us, a _Stregoni Benefici_, who rose above the mire of endless palace intrigue and bloody banqueting on the cattle Heidi procured for our meals. He had his own coven, they said – some whispered _famiglia_, a concept I could barely comprehend since my changing – who passed an approximation of human existence, drinking the blood of animals while abstaining from human blood altogether.

He had been a been a particular favorite of Aro and yet had left Volterra, earned his freedom from this place, a very curious and rare occurrence from what I had seen. I was doubly curious then when I found one of his books in the library - French philosophy. I studied the notes he left in the margins for some clue to understanding him. I took no pains to hide my study; Aro knew all, regardless. After some time with the guard, I came to understand that he could sniff out double subterfuge as easily as if the guilt of it were written across the stone walls. This _Carlisle_ seemed beyond my comprehension. What creature of our kind, what vampire, would study Pascal's Gambit? Would underline the words:

_Let us weigh the gain and the loss in wagering that God is. Let us estimate these two chances. If you gain, you gain all; if you lose, you lose nothing._

And in his own hand:

_Must our own existence, our sustenance be so absolute? Could we resign ourselves to our nature but not bow before its basest desires? Is vampire a curse to absolute dark depravity or might we be more? Could we be schooled by our eons, learn with concerted effort to risk all, deny all and then rise above?_

I continued through my tasks as I mused over the mystery of him once again. Eventually I reached the end of the hall and the last door that needed locking. I delayed to look over one last item. Here was an early copy of Virgil's tenth Eclogue. I read it again, though it was committed to my perfect vampiric memory, and chose as usual to ignore the oft quoted passage _Love conquers all_. I preferred a line more befitting to my purgatory: _Resolved am I... with wild beasts to couch, and bear my doom_.

I secured the private hall and continued my silent progress through the castle. My rounds complete, I traced the path our _dinner guests_ would take, pausing before a painting the size of a small window. It was another of my pastimes. As vampire I could stand as still as a statue for hours looking upon this bucolic scene of Tuscany's rolling hillside. The lure of an existence outside the corridors of the nightmare palace had become the stuff of daydream. There was so little reason to hurry. There was so little reason for anything anymore.

The heavy keys that signified my position in the guard were also my handcuffs, a paltry _raison d'être_. I had no reason to leave. I had no reason to stay. I was a mental prisoner – of Aro's whims and manipulations and my own demoralized apathy.

I felt the gloomy weight of the Caravaggio canvas behind me, as if David was offering the head of Goliath to me himself, and turned. The painter had given the gory head his own features. There were moments I could understand the macabre desire. The pale young man with the bloody sword was luminescent against the murky black of the background and never failed to make me think of Alec, one of Aro's favorites in the guard. Alec's _gift_ was often used to punish wayward vampires. Those whose crimes were severe enough to provoke execution were necessarily handled by the largest of the guard instead. There wasn't much that would kill us, only beheading followed by fire. Felix had a taste for it, which often spared me the duty.

My nostrils flared with an unwelcome scent. Felix.

"Well, well, if it isn't _cucciolo di orso_." _Bear cub_. He often twisted Heidi's term of affection to goad my temper. "Dawdling again? Come. Aro wishes you at the main door to the banquet hall."

Felix was the only vampire among us who was larger than me. Not only that, his physical power and talent for fighting was uncontested. He was Aro's favorite gladiator and executioner, always a step or more ahead of any opponent, and was called often to fight for the amusement of the three Ancients. I'd seen him sizing me up. I think he was tired of easy kills and hoped one day to have me in the ring. Meanwhile, he seemed to delight in entertaining himself at my expense.

_Mi orso_. My bear. The bitter irony was not lost on me.

I remembered so very little of my human life – merely flashes, like over-exposed still frames flickering at the end of movie reel. All that remained were individual moments, obscured by the veil of amnesia created by the fire of my turning.

…_my hand resting on the gentle swell of a belly…_

…_clasping a dainty silver cross around a graceful neck…_

…_waving good-bye to a young woman on shore who cried as she blew kisses…_

…_a telegram, half crushed in my fist…_

The events that lead to my changing were much clearer, though with the passage of time they became distant in a different way. It was as if they were merely facts that held little meaning, as if they had happened to someone else. _That_ Emmett McCarty, that human, flew bombardier position in B-24's for the 376th AEW. When his division was sent after Romanian oil refineries, that Emmett miraculously survived the heavy fire of anti-aircraft artillery just long enough to go down in flames somewhere over the Carpathian Mountains. That Emmett, though bruised and bloodied, survived even then, his chute tangling in the canopy of dense forest.

The blood drew the attention of a bear. Not just any bear – not a 250-pound American black bear that could be found in the hills of Tennessee where that Emmett had grown up, but a massive 1500-pound European brown bear.

_Ursus arctos arctos. It batted at my human body once, twice, clawing through gear, skin and muscle. The bear set my mangled limbs swinging from the chute straps that held it suspended. A few more swipes would finally end this hellish existence._

"_Thank you, God," I prayed. "Finally I can join my wife, my child." A smile of the truly blessed graced my face._

_Unbelievably, the bear turned, disinterested, to amble away._

"_No. No, no, NO!"_

_I would live? After all that, and yet I would live?_

"_Get back here and finish me, God damn it!" I screamed, kicking and thrashing against the air in desperate futility. The bear eyed me once more with indifference and disappeared behind the tree line._

"_Noooo!" I howled. I cursed that bear to the fiery depths of hell. I cursed the bear, and I cursed the God who left me to rot in this earthly existence when he had taken away from me all that I loved, all that was good and pure. _

As clear as the memories of my death may be in comparison to those faded glimpses of my human life, both were like looking through murky glass compared to the rigorous and categorically perfect recall we vampires had of every single moment since awakening from the fires of our transformation.

As I'd howled and raged against God for sparing me again, for making me the sole survivor again, I had no reason to believe I was not alone. As it happened, the smell of my spilled blood had drawn more than just the bear.

_The soft flutter of moving air had me looking up to find what stirred it. In the shadowy underbrush crouched a figure, a small dark-haired woman with strangely pale skin and unnerving eyes. My skin crawled as she skittered up a tree and snapped the webbing of my chute straps with her bare hands as though she was tearing paper. With a thump I fell into a heap on the forest floor, groaning with the agony of landing on my broken leg. She was not human, of that I was sure. The woman – creature? – dropped lightly to her feet beside me and took my face in her hands. I shuddered as I looked into her blood red eyes. Surely this was a bringer of death come to grant me my wish at last._

I'd begged for death, and she had come to grant it.

Or so I'd thought when the burning began.

The creature who was my dam was Bohemian in every sense of the word. In life she'd been a Roma – a Gypsy and a Tinker. In death she was a nomad, wandering Eastern Europe for her hunting grounds. When I woke from my change, hunting humans became as instinctual as breathing had been before it. What Tsuritsa taught me was how to kill without leaving evidence, how to keep to the shadows, how to control my bloodlust and how to masquerade as human.

_Tsuritsa_, her name meant _little light of the dawn_. What satire was God playing at?

And they said Felix had a gift of luck. I must have had the devil's own luck myself.

_Perhaps eighteen moons had passed since my change when I encountered the bear again. I'd seen many over the course of my wanderings with Tsuritsa, but somehow I knew unerringly this was the same bear that left me dangling in the trees, the bear I had cursed. _

_A fury overtook me as I leapt upon the beast, tearing at its fur. I could have snapped its neck so easily and been done with it quickly, but I wanted it enraged. I wanted a battle. I wanted bright red smears and splatters of blood against the snow. I could not have an end to the grief that had hardened into my very bones, but perhaps I could exact some measure of revenge._

_When it was done, and the last of the bear's warm blood pooled and melted the snow around its carcass, I closed my eyes and tried to revel in the wreckage, hoping to prolong the blissful focus of the frenzy that was retreating all too quickly._

_A sound caught my attention, and the last of my euphoria drained away, turning quickly to horror as the lone bear cub shuffled into view, raising its snow-covered snout to sniff. I rent the air with a feral howl as full realization of my sin descended upon me._

_In my contemptible and rash vengeance I had stolen the mother from this cub._

_My anguish and self-loathing took physical manifestation. The cub, frightened, scampered away into the brush as I fell to my knees, clawing my own face. My nails screeched against the marble of my skin, but I could not mark it, so I scrabbled instead at the rock below, tearing large hunks to hurl against the trees. The split and splinter of centuries old trunks was still not enough._

_I bounded towards an outcropping of rock, pummeling into it with my fists until a piece longer than a train car and twice as wide cracked away from the hillside. My knees did not buckle as I lifted the boulder, but the sensation of its weight was gratifying. It was somehow soothing to bear a burden heavier than my grief, if only for a moment._

_I was barely conscious of Tsuritsa watching me in amazement as I hefted the great stone to my shoulder before hurtling it through the clear air. The deafening crash and boom as it landed was followed by a rumble and shudder of the earth beneath our feet. The monolithic boulder had cracked in two, and the terrain below it had opened into a wide fissure._

_Tsuritsa turned to me then with an unreadable look on her face though her eyes were wide. She pointed once at me and once down the west side of the mountain. "Italia. Volturi."_

_She pressed me once more in the direction in which she had pointed and nodded her head as if to say 'go on'. I took a step forward, then turned back to look for her, but she was already gone._

_Alone._

_Again._

_And so I'd headed west. _

I took my place as sentry and doorman before the ornately carved main doors to the banquet room. When Aro approached, I readied the door to admit him. His features were frozen in time like the rest of us, but his eyes were a milky red, and his pallid skin was thin like the finest paper. He'd walked the earth for more than 3,000 years, and of the three Ancients he seemed perpetually amused.

He stopped before me, holding out his hand. "My dear Emmett, are you well today?"

I bowed my head demurely and placed my palm in his. "Of course, Master." My answer mattered little. Through his touch he would read every thought I'd ever had and know for himself soon enough.

After a moment he released me with a small smile and entered the hall. If my dissatisfaction with this existence were of any concern, I could only assume either the strength for which Aro valued me outweighed it, or it suited his designs. I closed the door behind him and took my place again.

The thrum of approaching heartbeats awakened my thirst. As I opened the heavy wooden door to the banquet hall for Heidi to usher in our guests, the scent of that warm, coursing blood inundated the room. It always affected me the same way – the burn in my throat, the drip of venom, the spring-like coil of anticipation, the zinging thrill of the hunt my nature still expected despite the fact I rarely had the pleasure of a chase anymore.

Regardless, the smell and sound and sight of these doomed cattle had whetted my appetite.

"Yes, they do look rather juicy," Heidi murmured in tones below the range of human hearing. "Wipe your chin, _mi orso_, it's quite unbecoming to drool so," she teased before turning to enter the hall.

I had just begun the task of closing us all inside the abattoir when I heard it. Another heartbeat remained in the stonework passageway. My head snapped towards the sound. Instinctively I raised my nose to sniff the air – sweet almond, sunlight in the morning, the bite of ginger, a crisp mountain air after a snow. Delectable. It was literally mouth-watering as the flow of venom increased. I stepped into the passage; the sound and scent led me around the corner.

I stood frozen, arrested by the sight before me.

She had stopped to linger over the Caravaggio, and her head was tipped back enticingly as she studied the canvas. Silken honeyed tresses skimmed down the line of her back, but her neck was decadently exposed – the graceful line of it, the pulse of it provoked me. My greedy mouth dripped with venom.

She looked up as if abruptly realizing she had strayed from the group. The trotting gait of her heartbeat sped to a canter as she felt me staring at her from the shadows. Her scent altered delicately in response to my presence – the tart of a green apple, warm butter, rich black currant.

The fragrance of her blood called to me, commanding and demanding, pulsing and singing under skin so gossamer and fine it must be tasted. A multitude of wicked hungers blossomed within me. No blood or body had so seduced me since being reborn into this existence. My vampiric nature catalogued the details of my prey automatically. Arched eyebrows balanced high cheek bones and ripe lips. A vaguely feline swoop of coal-black lined sooty upper lashes over icy blue eyes. Deliciously heavy breasts and rounded hips were punctuated by a narrow waist. Her limbs were delicate and well-turned. Even without the way her blood beckoned me it was an exquisite package. I was nearly undone by the sultry curve of her calf alone.

And then she looked at me, into me, and spoke. "The angels too, who did not keep to their own domain but deserted their proper dwelling, he has kept in eternal chains, in gloom…" She barely whispered, but I heard every nuanced word. This golden beauty, this angel, could recognize the agony of a soul-less demon like me?

_***Nel giardin del bello - Rosalie***_

January in Italy was surprisingly cold; February was absolutely bitter.

Certainly, as any human would, I made errors of judgment in my human life, but far worse, I was riddled with self-reverence and arrogance. The simple desires of simple people made little impression on me, so glutted I was in my own grandeur. I lived my life as a glittering charm, well aware the seduction of reflected glory drew others to me, proud to wield that power as I chose. My soul, decayed from years of haughty sin, searched for the transformative light of a Holy Mother's forgiveness but found little more than relics and mysticism. Rosalie Hale, as I knew her, meant nothing more than what was determined for her.

Since my father's death the previous November, I felt as if every aspect of my life was turning toward extremes. When I left my family home in Rochester on January 4, 1961, I should have been a study in grief but, in truth, was almost bounding away from our stately brick Queen Anne home with a sense of hope I'd never known. My father, only truly known to me in his gloaming, was gone, finally relieved of his agonizing death from cancer. My fiancé, ultimately revealing his true nature was also gone, shedding me with no more thought than a mislaid silk scarf at the symphony. Being a good daughter made me a poor fiancée; attending to my father with purpose removed my presence, and therefore _raison d'etre_, from Royce's employ as part of his perfect Rochester royalty picture. Daddy's revelations, spoken to me in wheezes and rasps as I sat beside him, the first time in my life I'd sat in the service of another person, spoke to me so much of his own regret, it became mine and illuminated my own.

Observing the daily decease of my father in tiny increments changed me, called forth an attribute I'd avoided with a slightly manic intensity. I became reflective. All of those hours in a cramped and rigid hospital chair, speaking softly or even holding Daddy's hand in silence, opened a propensity to introspection I'd daresay had never given voice to before.

Divested of his banker's gray and stoic hat, Daddy seemed to need to relive his youth. Some days he would almost feverishly tell me stories of opportunities refused, lesser romances dismissed, the regret pressing on his chest. My father took the road most traveled. He expected, instilled, demanded the same from his children and was terrified it was too late for us as well.

"Rosie, you're a smart girl. Go have an adventure after I'm gone," he would wheeze regularly. He never complimented me on my smart hairstyles or new dresses anymore, would quietly watch me execute a perfect turn and fix him with my sparkling smile, then turn his rheumy eyes away.

"You're a good-hearted girl, Rosie. Don't forget to share that with folks."

The homey plain-talk shook me, frankly embarrassed me. The doctors said his faculties were intact, there was no dementia from the treatments and the medicines.

Simply, Daddy was a man riddled with regrets. With the boys away at school, I was the vessel he chose to fill with the continual choice of duty over desire and the consequences of every one of those defeats.

I set aside my copies of Glamour and Harper's and began to listen.

"What is_ your_ heart's desire, Rosie?"

For two terrifying weeks, I asked myself that question. I asked when Royce's driver fetched me in the morning for the hospital, when I sat under the hair dryer with my hair bound tightly into curlers, when I took my fiancée's arm as we entered a dinner party.

I had a heart, certainly. Desire? My name was Rosalie Hale, my father and Royce King were my shepherds and I never knew want. How could I have truly comprehended such a thing as desire?

As the season's first snow approached, the hum of excitement over the impending presidential election retreated to secondary status in the conversations I heard as I walked through a dim corridor toward Daddy's room. November 4, 1960 had dawned heavy grey; a silent, expectant cold had settled overnight on Rochester. That morning, the thought of chill-chapped legs and navigating icy concrete in spindly heels exhausted me. When Daddy took in my denim, thick turtleneck, ponytail, and sensible little ballet shoes he nodded in approval. I reveled once again in his approval, this time so much better because the woman he smiled at was me, not another's vision of what I should be. My purse held the most courageous act I could remember considering, the confession so dangerous I thought I might collapse. The slim volume I kept hidden in my nightstand was my most secret wish. He turned the travel guide over in his tremulous hands and smiled.

"Italy, Daddy." I whispered. "Just me and Italy."

Daddy and I spent his last conscious hours planning my adventure. As I selected the museums and sites of antiquity I wanted to see, he wrote out my itinerary for me, his hand so weak he could barely hold his heavy black fountain pen. The nib caught over and over, tearing at the paper and scattering the white surface with miniscule pointillist landscapes of black ink. After we'd finished, he sat the detailed and lengthy journey aside and folded his hands across his chest.

"Now, Rosie. I think I would like a priest."

"Daddy, a minister?"

"No, good daughter. A priest."

I stared at my father's sunken, gray face, immediately recognizing the expectant but patient expression he always wore after he had stated his irrevocable decision on some matter or the other, even as a foreign cadence slid into his speech. Regardless of what he had revealed to me, he still appeared as the man I called my father, even in these gloaming moments.

"Daddy, I don't–" I was immobile, rooted to the dingy linoleum as I struggled to reconcile the truth of him and what I thought I had always assumed.

"No Irish need apply, Rosie. Drinkers and fighters. I wanted more and had to do what I could to make my way." A syrupy cough rattled from his lungs, lifting him from the pillows and leaving him gasping for air. "Now, go on, daughter and find me a priest."

Release from the two men who defined me should have terrified me. I'd spent each of my twenty-four years fulfilling their expectations, offering the only aspect of myself that seemed worthwhile to anyone. I was beautiful. Because of that, my father could offer me to the Kings, they took me as another of their baubles, and Daddy's fortunes climbed. I couldn't find it in my heart to hate Daddy, even after I spent the better part of an afternoon in my bed with curtains drawn, finally seeing myself as I truly was: a brokered commodity. Daddy had done the same, giving up his family, even his name, to become something more than working-class Irish in the tenements of Manhattan. He saw in his children the chance to send O'Hallorans back to the city as Hales, washed clean of toiling in laundries and slaughterhouses as his parents had, making us all over in the rebirth possible only in America. How could I hate a man who simply wanted better for his own, just as his parents had done when they packed themselves into steerage with the other fortunate ones and left Cork or Liverpool or Hull for the vast ocean and the country of possibility at the other side?

I found I couldn't offer Royce the same forgiveness. I was groomed for him, readied to take my place as part of the most powerful young couple in Rochester. Because of Daddy's treatments, I'd taken time away from the museum to attend to him but Royce still had social engagements, and soon I discovered my duties to him and the King family did not end because my father was lingering painfully between burning radiation treatments and the mercy of death. I was not his 'darling Lilly'; I was his most favored employee. The final straw came when I booked my trip to Italy without Royce's 'permission'. Our broken engagement even ended my position at the museum. I was told the King family had withdrawn their patronage, thus taking away my position in acquisitions. The curator, never one for niceties where I was concerned, informed me I was merely 'a pretty girl who bought pretty things with the Kings' money'.

The days between Daddy's passing and his funeral barely imprinted on my mind. I felt, for the first time in my life, like a player with a part who had no understanding of her lines. I made the appropriate gestures, steadied my mother, guided my brothers. Only when I found my way to Sacred Heart Cathedral the day before my departure for Rome, did I let the layers slip away, sliding into a darkened pew, and allowing the grief for my father and his shadowy life spill out quietly into my pressed handkerchief. The notion that my father hid his very identity, his own name even, was pressing on my mind in a manner I couldn't begin to comprehend.

As with most things, when I didn't understand, I went to Vera. Her tidy little living room, with it's homey smells and toddler Henry babbling happily, was the only place I was honestly accepted. Vera was the only soul in the world who bothered to know the true me.

"Oh Rosie," she sighed as I finished the story. "Honey, did your father tell you anything about his family? Maybe how to find them?"

"No, just the name and that his parents were a laundress and a laborer in a slaughterhouse. He was more intent on my finding the priest." I reached down and tousled Henry's thick black curls and smiled wistfully at him. "This might seem… odd, I suppose, but I would like for you to teach me."

"Teach you?"

"All I know of them is Irish and Catholic. Barring taking up work in an abattoir, it's what I know of his people." I laughed ruefully and opened my arms for little Henry, whose chubby hands grasped for me as always. "Is there something I can read? A guide? I feel as though I had a real father, finally, and he died, and I need him so very much now, Vera." I pressed my lips to the warm head resting against my heart, cursing silently as tears spilled down my cheeks for the second time that day and whispered my greatest fear to my only real friend. "I don't know who I am anymore if I'm not John Hale's daughter or Royce King's fiancée."

Vera came to Henry and me then, kneeling before me and clasping my hands in hers.

"Rose, you are more than those things and always have been. Don't try to take on anything more than enjoying yourself, doing exactly what _you_ want to do in Italy. I promise, if you just have a little faith in yourself, you'll find your own path, my dear." She gave my hands an affectionate squeeze as her sweet brown eyes twinkled merrily. "And as for reading…" Crossing the room, she pulled a thick volume from the tatty bookshelf and passed it to me. " This one has it all - perfect for a trip to Italy. Romance, intrigue, art, even – yes- a bit of religion."

I turned the thick volume over in my hands, unsure of what to expect and after reading the cover looked back to Vera in confusion.

"_The Marble Faun" by Nathaniel Hawthorne. _

"Yes, a simple novel. What I'm saying, Rosie, is just go and have fun. Choose what you want every day, and you'll find yourself when you least expect it; when you are leading the life _you_ want."

We held hands for a moment over her sweet little son's head, both teary through our smiles.

"I'll send you postcards every day," I promised, sniffling.

"You'd better!"

"And wonderful presents for my little angel." Henry's sweet powder and vanilla scent filled my senses as I kissed his forehead and received his own squirming, sticky handed kiss for my trouble.

"And take lots of snapshots, and throw your coins in that fountain and… oh, Rosie – go have a romance, and you must write with all of the details!"

We giggled as we did when we were girls over it all, and our talk moved on to more mundane things: the just-passed holidays, Henry's utter perfection, our families. Time melted away as it always did when I was with my best friend. The conversation was so easy and even the fluid dance of the two of us in the kitchen, working on dinner, chatting, stopping to make a face or steal a little kiss from Henry in his high chair felt like a balm after months in those hard, upright chairs at the hospital. I caught myself fussing over the sweet little boy, as did she, but neither of us commented; we just smiled, Vera winking at me over the homey golden perfection of chicken pot pie coming from her oven. I sighed, content: soon I would be too full with her wonderful cooking, happy, excited about everything that lay before me – relaxed. God knows, Vera's house was my sanctuary.

Vera's husband Frank drove me home after I'd read my sweet Henry one last story, had one last nuzzle of his warm little cheek and feathery dark eyelashes. Even before Daddy and his illness and the sad, sad admissions of his regrets, this little boy – my little angel baby Henry – had changed my life. Henry showed me I wanted to be more than an ornament; Daddy taught me how to begin.

As Frank turned down St. Paul Street, a group of men staggered in front of the car, causing Frank to brake hard and slide on the icy pavement. Instead of an embarrassed wave or even a called apology, one of the figures approached the car, staggering, obviously quite drunk.

"Rosie, lock your door," Frank instructed quietly. I did, and clutched my gloved hands together nervously. There was something… I knew that figure, the coat, even the man's movements, sauced as he was. I knew him. As his fists fell against the windshield, I screamed – not in fright but fury.

Royce. Belligerent, arrogant, drunken Royce.

"Watch yourself, piss-ant!" he slurred as he pressed his face against the frosted glass in a grotesque mask of rage. One of his cronies descended and sickeningly, the sound of broken glass rang out over the hum of the engine. Frank and I looked to each other, then at the darkened street around us. No police, just a couple exiting the tavern Royce and his gang had just stumbled from. Frank sounded the old Mercury's horn to no avail: there were five of them, and they were itching for a fight, surrounding the car like enraged predators.

"Nah, you just sit theyah, Rosie." I'd never heard Frank's voice so dark and full of the Down East Maine of his youth. He was a big man, descended from hearty Irish lobstermen, and would not back down from a few drunks bashing in his beloved '52 Merc.

In one powerfully fluid movement, Frank swung his door open and sent one of Royce's friends – Cal Eastman by the look of him – skidding across the icy street.

"Move on, ya drunk-aads," Frank snarled, rising to his full height. Royce, the fool, actually approached him, swaying against the open car door. He'd been sick with drink and his coat bore the remnants of it. I covered my face as the stench was carried inside the car with a gust of wind off of the lake. When Royce lunged at Frank awkward and flailing on the slick road, a part of me broke open: rageful, sickened, and absolutely disgusted that I'd ever considered this…

I'd thought of _him_ as my prince?

"Go home, Royce, you're staggering drunk and putting your family to shame," I spat as I threw open my door.

"Rosalie, get in the car," I heard Frank say, his voice full of heavy resignation. I shook my head and strode over to Royce, furious.

"You pay Frank for the headlight Powell Jordan just kicked out and go on home, Royce King!"

"Wh…why it's - … boys come see, it's that Irish whore I almost married!" The thick, wet set of his lips and the clinging sour smell of his vomit almost sickened me.

Frank's hand closed on Royce's collar, lifting him to his toes. His friends, seeing Frank's size and the heavy tire iron that had somehow appeared in his hand, began to back away towards the lights of the bar.

"I said move on, ya rich shitting drunk."

"Go, Royce. You disgust me." I turned and stalked back to the passenger side of the car, full of fury and mortification over his treatment of my Vera's kind husband. Royce was right behind me, snatching me into him by the collar of my red cashmere coat – the coat he had approved from a selection sent over from Sibley's Department Store.

"Watch your mouth, you scheming RC piece of trash," he sneered, spraying me with his rank spittle as he pressed his face towards mine. "I can't believe I balled _you. _You're no better than a downstairs maid, Roooosalie O'Halloran." Royce laughed bitterly at his own approximation of a broad Irish accent. I stared at him, bewildered, so completely confounded at how he had discovered_… not the priest… the nurses?_... I didn't see his hand slicing through the frigid air, aimed for my face. "I wasted years, we wasted a fortune on you trying to clean the filth off you… should have left you on the side of the road with the rest of the rubbish." As 'filth' spewed from his mouth, his palm glanced across my cheekbone, sending white streaks of light across my hastily shut eyes. I heard Frank shouting, using words I'd never truly heard in conversation, and as their voices rose my coat collar gave way under Royce's clawing hand.

Irish whore. Trash. Filth?

_Not me._

I marched after them; Frank had closed the tire-iron over Royce's neck to restrain him, and their male, bestial grunts escalated over each other's in an unintelligible mish-mash.

"I was everything you wanted me to be for six years, you arrogant bastard." My breath came hard between my gritted teeth as I stalked toward him, fists clenched and trembling. "How dare you call me a… wh- trash?"

Royce's head lolled slightly against Frank's shoulder, his own body fidgeting with apparent anger. Something warm, inexplicably, was on my feet, my legs, dripping from the fine wool of my coat.

"There you piece of low-class shit. That's what you're good for."

"Rosie, oh God, honey… just get in the car, let me –"

It came to disgusting, revolting clarity as Frank swung Royce round to face him, his arm pulling away from his body in a lethal arc.

And I saw Henry. No father to speak of. The Kings never stopped until they bent their targets to their will. I knew. They had done it to me.

"Frank, stop," I whispered, then again – louder, with all of the authority and power and self-possession Rosalie Lillian Hale knew was in her. "Stop."

Frank stepped away allowing Royce to slide to the icy street, sputtering and coughing as he clamored for footing, then shot from under him, landing him square on his backside. Before I could consider my actions, what ladylike meant and how I'd been raised, I strode to this man I would have married, never slowing, and kicked him between the legs. I propelled my muscle and tendon and bone with every minute of every repressed painful year I'd spent with Royce and his family: misunderstood, dismissed, made over without my consent and ultimately rejected for loyalty to the man who wanted nothing but the best for me.

Frank gaped, but said nothing, instead gently taking my elbow and leading me back to the still-idling car. Silently, he slid my ruined coat from me, deposited it in the trunk and gently wiped at my quaking legs and feet with an old saddle blanket. Before I could make sense of his actions, I was wrapped in his rough woolen coat and passing through Rochester's upper-class enclave.

Mother met us at the door, frantic, having been called by Vera just minutes before inquiring after Frank. There were hushed voices, the rustle of fabric and a reeking odor suddenly replaced by the hiss of a spraying scent. My shoes were removed and my feet placed in a basin of warm water as an ice-filled towel was pressed against my cheekbone, horror dissipating and fresh rage taking its place.

"Frank," I muttered tonelessly. He was before me, worried, having just spoken with Vera and the police. "Frank, thank you." My mind was clearing, the repulsive reality topmost in my memory.

"Rosie, that…oh, Christ, Rosalie be glad you're rid of that one, eh?" He crouched before me, hi gentle brown eyes so much like little Henry's. "That… that ain't no man, huh? That's a monster. Don't think of him again. To… t_'... Jesus, Mary, Joseph_," he sighed shaking his head. "Ta' hit a woman, and then… uh, Rosie. Money an' fine things don't mean much if those that have 'em are no account altogether, eh?"

"No," I replied quietly.

There were statements to be made, reports filled out. I nodded and responded mechanically through it all, only coming fully into the present when our housekeeper Moira leant into my ear.

"Miss Rosalie, I've got the stains and the smell out of your coat, but you might want a new one all the same. Your lovely pumps were ruined, though."

Moira. Sweet, soft voice, lilting with Ireland.

"It's alright, Moira," I said, suddenly feeling my exhaustion. "Thank you, dear."

My last evening in Rochester had been nightmarish and revealing. The sight of Royce and knowledge he was capable of such absolute disdain ended any small thread of hope I'd entertained of reconciliation.

I was truly my own now.

When I settled into my seat on the airliner in New York, I took out Vera's Hawthorne, reading myself for the long transatlantic flight. A slip of paper fluttered to my lap, followed by the soft 'chink' of metal.

_Rosie,_

_I hope you discover all you hope for on your wonderful trip – and finally know the girl I see in you._

_All of my love and blessings for a safe journey,_

_Vera_

With the note, she had enclosed her own little silver cross, embossed with tiny roses. I knew it had been her grandmothers' and passed to Vera. With flooding eyes, I pressed the cool metal to my lips as the plane ascended over New York and sent my dearest friend blessings of my own.

My arrival in Rome was an awakening. Even in the chilly winter air, the city was drawn in soft color: an ancient, yet still living fresco. Delicate grays, peaches, cloud-like blues and gentle wheats and olives greeted me every day. Each morning brought a new decision, a new plan – all my own… _what Rosie wanted_.

The city softened me with it's eternal glow. The red coat, a keepsake of Royce's attempt to imprint the King way on me, not to mention his revolting attack, was gone. I wrapped myself in tender blue and mild taupe, pearlescent cream, dove gray. Blue, the Romans told me more than once, was the color of heaven. _Il colore del cielo, il colore del Madonna!_

Madonna. Holy Mother.

I gazed at her for an hour at St. Paul's, gesturing dreamily at the others to move on around me as I stood, transfixed and feeling her loss, her unending sacrifice in the _Pieta_. To me, the iconic sculpture was not evidence of Michelangelo's hand applied to marble. She loved, gave everything and was transformed. I was never particularly observant at our own church, seeing the Sunday service as another social obligation with Royce or, earlier in life, a place to see and be seen. I was appreciated when I fulfilled expectations, admonished when I was less than perfect, and never considered anything larger than myself. Faith was unimaginable. I was determined. I was well-behaved. I would never trust anything outside of my small, monochrome world.

My father's faith, and particularly this Holy Mother, appealed to me. Unconditional love, grace, faith – all were foreign concepts to me. The idea of her and what she represented, unending, infinite, non-judgmental love, stirred me like nothing outside of my own whims and desires ever had. Mary, as Michelangelo saw her, held her hand open, palm up.

_Acceptance. _

_Hail Mary full of Grace…_

I began to see myself like a pilgrim in a Caravaggio: stepping from darkness into light, shedding the time-consuming concern with myself and noticing everything else.

The world was so much more than Rochester, a good marriage, even babbling little babies. I'd never given it a whit of consideration, and now I thought about it all the time.

Who could I be? The world lay before me; each choice mine alone to make.

I was more - and nothing. I was stripped of everyday concerns, and it was exhilarating. I learned to play in my mind, finding imagination that entertained me as I took in the Coliseum and wondered what it was like to watch, even to participate before a Caesar. Gray haired men called "Bellissima", kissed my hand, even sang bits of _Nessun Dorma_ to me. Instead of haughty dismissal, I giggled and flirted with them lightheartedly. I sipped a Bellini and considered Hemingway in Harry's Bar, ate a pastry if I chose, napped until ten when my body called for it.

Anything and everything I did was my own decision. I was becoming what I wanted to be,knowing myself and not the vision for me created by others. Not an ornament, not a prize.

_Rosalie._

I learnedI loved opera. The thought made me giggle quietly and shake my head at it. _Le grandi passioni... la vita, il rimorso amore, la morte. _The climactic highs and lows thrilled me, made me gasp and laugh and cry at the elaborate productions I watched from elegant boxes.

In Venice, I was still laughing to myself over a new production of _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ when I exited Teatro la Fenice, when an ancient _Nonni _stopped me and placed her withered hand on my cheek_._

_"Tu, ragazza bella, tu sei innocente con la vita!"_

Rosalie Hale, reborn. Known to herself for the first time at twenty-four.

You, beautiful girl, you are innocent with life, she'd said.

As February flew by, my trip drew to a close, and I fought against the heavy dread that made my body sag every time I considered returning to Rochester.

On my final day in Milan, the kind couple who owned the _Pensione _where I was staying presented me with a pair of antique opera glasses and a ticket to La Scala. I'd spent several evenings with them, discussing events, my reasons for travel, what I had encountered and how my life had changed.

"The only regret I have is that I didn't have a grand romance to tell Vera about," I shrugged and giggled along with the _padrona di casa._

"_Rosa_, put on a pretty dress and go to _La Teatro_. Find a handsome man to smile at," Signora Moretti said affectionately, pressing the glasses into my hands. "Go and have your _notte di grand passione_."

As the orchestra went through one final progression of scales, a late arriving party across the theatre caught my eye. They took up the largest box just across from me and were so similar in movement and dress they must have been related. I couldn't look upon them as family members, but rather a tribe of some sort. I risked a further glance in their direction as the curtain rose and noticed two large men stationed at the back of the box.

"Hmmm…" I mused, looking at the pale faces illuminated in the stage lights. "Bodyguards?"

The elderly woman beside me caught my appraisal – _why was I attracting so many Italian grandmothers? _– and tsked me harshly.

"_Allontanati, bambino! Non li guardo, sono demoni!" _

Demons? Surely I'd misheard – the family name must be similar. Still I was curious.

"_Mi perdoni, Signora?" _I whispered to her over the overture.

"_Shhh... tsk!… Non li guardo."_

She motioned, brisk and insistent, toward the stage, and I turned away slowly, like a chastised child. As my eyes moved across the tableau of the family one last time, I noticed the apparent father, or leader - a slight, dark-haired man clearly of importance as he was seated in the middle of the others - watching me. He inclined his head slightly to me and smiled in a manner that might be called charming had it been another man who had done so. Something in this Signore Demoni's unabashed appraisal of me caused a rush of clammy fear to climb my spine and I shivered in spite of myself. For the rest of the evening, as Verdi's _Don Carlos_ unfolded before me, my hand went again and again to my neck, toying absentmindedly with Vera's little silver cross.

The sensation of eyes on me never faded, even during the interval when I was certain someone observed me from behind the drawn curtains of the Royal Box. The heavy dread of returning home, descended upon me as I watched the impossible choices both Elisabeth and Eboli faced. My sudden gloom and the disconcerting attentions of the Royal box's occupants stretched my nerves thin.

_Addio Addio, sogno dorato ... illusione! ... Fantasma! ...  
Ogni link vincolante me terra è rotto!  
Addio, giovinezza, amore! ... Dare da sotto il ceppo,  
il mio cuore ha solo un desiderio di sinistra, che è la pace della morte!_

Farewell, youth, love. Golden dream.

How could I go home now?

My last day in Italy was to be in Siena. The next morning I would board a train for Rome and then a plane for New York, but until then, I had one last visit. San Domenico in Siena to visit St. Catherine's Chapel.

Her devotion to the Church, to her calling was absolute. Elisabeth in Don Carlos, devoted to him, welcoming death without her love.

I was devoted... was I? To what or to whom?

The light and peace of the past two months seemed to flow out of me, rather than in, like a river's course changed by an earthquake. I lit candles and prayed in the baptistry for my father, pulled my mantilla lower, gazed more reverently at the image of the Virgin over the altar and the relics of St. Catherine in her little glass case. The actions felt hollow; the story of St. Catherine's years of self-imposed harsh penance seemed useless, even self-indulgent.

The only sight in St. Catherine's Chapel that rang true to me was the fresco of a beheaded man and the bereft expression on the face of the only figure trained on the headless figure. Her blonde hair was swept away from her face, revealing horrified loss. She clutched at herself, arms crossed over her chest as if trying to console herself in the knowledge she alone would be her only source of comfort after this loss. I couldn't look away from this woman robed in blue, and it filled me with dread.

As I made my way to the door, a slight woman, dressed in the garb of a postulant preparing to enter a religious order, approached me with a tiny prayer card.

"You seem so sad," she whispered and pressed the card into my hand. "Remember the good things, my sister."

The terse old Rosalie smile sprang to my lips first, before I could control it, and I shoved my hand holding the little card into my pocket, turned on my heel and fled from the chapel.

Once in the square outside Santo Domingo, I stopped, my breath coming in small angry gasps. The card was still crumpled in my hand.

"_The angels too, who did not keep to their own domain but deserted their proper dwelling, he has kept in eternal chains, in gloom…"_

I snorted softly, crumpling the card again, tried to call the image of the _Pieta_ in my mind and failed.

Eternal chains. Home.

I sighed and started for my Pensione.

"Pardon me, miss? Signorina?" The most beautiful voice, an angel's voice, floated from over my shoulder. I turned and was greeted by a woman similar in stature to me but with a flowing auburn hair that could only be described as a lush mane. Her eyes, the most unusual shade of violet, almost hypnotized me.

"Yes?"

"You are a tourist, yes, an art lover? Please permit me to give you an invitation from my employer. He has noted your great beauty."

"Invitation?" I repeated, dazed.

"Yes, an invitation. My employer enjoys the company of our city's more cosmopolitan visitors from time to time at his villa. His collection of art and antiquities rivals the Uffizi itself."

I knew intellectually I should walk away, yet something about this woman and the engraved card she held toward me held me like a charmed child.

Feeling quite agreeable, I nodded to the stunning violet-eyed woman and smiled lazily.

"Yes, I think... yes, it will be a wonderful conclusion to my visit," I replied, even as I fought my actions mentally, and accepted the invitation from her outstretched hand.

"A driver is waiting just here..."

_Maybe this isn't such a good idea... can't..._

"Signorina Rosalie, we all are breathless to enjoy your company this evening. I assure you, it will be an amazing experience," she smiled once again and took my arm.

_How...?_

I am quite sure the sleek Maserati sedan drove us out of Siena, along the narrow Tuscan roads that wound through the sentinels of cypress and tile-topped villas, just as it seems quite likely my hostess and I spoke at length about art, my favorite cities in Italy, even my appreciation of the _Pieta_.

I know these things because they make sense, and it seems logical that those events would take up the short automobile trip. However, the only detail I am certain of was her incomparable beauty. In some other lifetime I might have hotly envied this woman, but her presence, and everything that comprised it, was the most enchanting feeling I'd experienced in my entire life. Each of my senses were seduced to listen, see, smell - yes, even taste the air flavored with her essence. Her hand brushed the sleeve of my coat twice as we chatted, and the sensation was as though someone had wrapped me in the finest duchesse satin, only magnified many times over. As illogical as it might seem, I was certain I would follow this lovely violet-eyed woman anywhere.

The car deposited me inside a monolithic porte-cochère, and I followed a couple up the steps to the interior where we joined a group of other tourists. As I began to return to my senses and attempt to question what had brought me here, the villa's interior double doors opened, and a very young, almost childlike pair joined us in the anteroom.

"Welcome to our uncle's villa, Villa Volterra," a tiny blonde woman-child greeted quietly. "Mere words cannot express the pleasure we take in greeting a gathering of such esteemed guests. Please, follow my brother to Uncle's _salone._ There is a display of Mesopotamian... relics... as well as a stunning Caravaggio." She turned so gracefully it seemed she moved on the currants of air, not by her own feet, on the lowly floors where mortals walked. Her brother followed, his movements similar to hers.

The corridor was long, but quite narrow for such a large home, and seemed to draw even closer as we approached a set of enormous carved oak doors. I attempted to see the Caravaggio, or the Baglione opposite, but my fellow guests had crowded at the doors, whispering excitedly, even attempting to peek through the tiny crack between the ancient portals. The Mesopotamian items were in impossibly good condition for such ancient silver. They must have been the implements of a dressmaker or tailor - they called to mind the button hole maker and seam ripper Moira used sometimes when making small repairs to our clothing at home.

The other guests began to move into the next room, and I took the opportunity to stand aside and peer up at the Caravaggio. As with many of his later paintings it was a simple, uncluttered composition of a sword-brandishing David holding the severed head of Goliath. I shuddered, seeing a beheading for the second time in one day, even rendered by Renaissance masters, was unsettling, especially as the two Mannerists seemed to exaggerate the most horrific aspects of the executions. I tried to study the beautiful example of chiaroscuro, appreciate the way Caravaggio lit the youth's marble-like skin to an almost opalescent gleam but found it impossible to even look at another painting. Perhaps I was sated of Caravaggio - maybe the Baglione?

I turned to the opposite wall and was afforded the briefest of visions of the composition: an angel... Michael?... stepping in to save a pouti from a filth covered, cowering demon. This angel stepped forward from the dark surrounding canvas that contained the fiend, his dark curls shot with reflected light that shone off of his perfect alabaster skin and highlighted the full, almost female curve of his mouth. The canvas seemed to move and suddenly a figure disarmingly similar to the Baglione's angel stepped in front of me. He was the most impressive man I'd ever seen: the span of his shoulders and broad chest was the embodiment of masculine power coiled just beneath the heavy wool tunic and cape he wore.

_Oh... but his face._ Utterly heart wrenching, breathtaking, divine... an angel stepping from the darkness.

An angel, reaching out for _me_.

Moving with a grace that seemed impossible for a man of his stature, he was suddenly closer, out of the shadows and into the single shaft of light in the windowless corridor. As his features clarified, I saw the sweet, angelic grace of little Henry's innocent face looking up at me, reaching, smiling with his gurgling little laugh, but something was off... wrong.

He was bound, locked in profound, unending grief.

Endless... _eternal chains_.

I stepped toward him, my pulse thundering in my ears and breath shaking my shoulders with shallow gasps. My angel, in a house of demons.

My hand extended to the tender curve of his smooth cheek, brushing at his cool skin, and his agony became mine.

_Save him, Rosie _my father's voice echoed in my mind.

"_The angels too, who did not keep to their own domain but deserted their proper dwelling, he has kept in eternal chains, in gloom…"_

_And I will deliver you into the light, my dark angel._

_***Intermezzo - Emmett***_

The cadence of her blood, the glow of her skin, the gleam of her eye, she was temptation and redemption rolled into one. Alarm bells rang in my head clanging _MineMineMineMineMine_ as I wrestled desperately with my restraint.

Even newly-made, I had never struggled with my control so completely. I didn't understand it. I didn't know what was happening to me. She took a step forward and instinctively I backed away.

Again.

And again.

It wasn't until I'd backed into the banquet hall that I realized I'd led her straight into the slaughterhouse. _No!_

My thoughts tumbled over each other in haste. _Take her! Save her! Fight! Flee!_

To act now would be a gruesome end to us both and not necessarily a quick one; I held tenuously to that rational thought. Under the pressure of our audience, a dozen vampires and twice as many humans, I clung to my routine and marshaled my composure as best I could. With a bow of my head and a sweep of my arm, I ushered her into the lion's den and locked the door behind her as was expected of me.

It was customary for Aro to have first choice. The guard stood patiently awaiting his decision. As his eyes swept the room and landed on me, I realized I had stepped in front of my gilded angel as if to block her from his view. The slight upward curve of one brow showed me my folly, and I stepped aside, struggling to keep any protective or possessive gestures out of my stance. It would accomplish nothing to raise his suspicions.

The light of recognition in his eyes when he looked upon the woman beside me turned my stomach. Aro had undoubtedly already made his choice. He signaled Heidi discreetly, and she glided forward to greet my flaxen-haired celestia.

"Signorina Rosalie, we are so pleased you could join us tonight. My employer, Signore Aro, would very much like to show you his rare collections. May I escort you to the private gallery?" The ritual was long-standing: upon Aro's signal, Heidi would bait and lure away his favored guest for solitary enjoyment after he entertained himself watching the rest of us feed. The one difference tonight was that I cared to learn her name.

Rosalie.

I didn't watch her go as she followed Heidi from the room, but I was intensely aware of her scent as I plotted my revolt. I would have her yet! Though I had only vague and distasteful assumptions about Aro's inclinations, I knew exactly where she would be taken.

Our _teatro del pranzo_ had begun; I would have to play my role and bide my time a little longer.

Members of the guard approached the human guests, pairing off in a charade of welcoming conversation that overlaid the ignominious purpose of staking claim to feeding rights. After a moment, Heidi returned alone. I closed and locked the door behind her, removing the final illusion of freedom from our guests, though they hardly noticed. The cattle were already overawed by the otherworldly beauty of my vampire brethren and their luxurious surroundings.

I nodded to my Master, signifying the room was secure.

Aro smiled benevolently down upon the gathering, spreading his hands wide in an imperious gesture. "_Buon appatito_, my children."

And then the screaming commenced.

I picked at random the nearest unattended human, my thoughts still racing as I dragged my victim towards a darkened corner. I barely registered the scent or appearance of my meal, all my thoughts and senses consumed as they were with the siren call of my fair-haired angel and my schemes.

I risked Aro's wrath, of that I was certain. Yet, if I took her now, while everyone was overcome with bloodlust and the frenzy of feeding, perhaps I could escape with her.

The insignificant struggles and shrieks of the man in my grasp infuriated me as would the buzzing annoyance of a fly. I snapped his neck and bent to drink, my back to the wall and my eyes warily cataloguing each supernatural being in the room. Once my allies, at least in name, now each was an enemy ready to stand between me and my salvation.

I drained the human quickly, gambling on the additional strength and vigor feeding would grant me, as I waited for my moment. As soon as Aro's back was turned, I slipped behind the tapestry, dropping the empty carcass where it would not draw attention. Obscured from the view by the heavy woven scene, my near silent movements were disguised by the din of wailing cries. I felt along the wall for the hidden door and used my keys to exit undetected and lock it behind me once more. It would not stop Felix, who had his own keys; truly any vampire wishing to could crash through the ancient carved oak easily. Perhaps it was merely a foolish holdover from my human existence or my own inflated sense of position as key keeper. But perhaps the defamation of their coveted home would buy me one second's pause. Would it be enough?

I flew down narrow wooden corridors and wider stonework passages towards Aro's chambers, her scent and the thudding sound of her heart growing stronger as I drew close.

_Hurry!_

I threw open the door, and there she stood.

Her eyes were magnetic. I could focus on nothing but the wildflower blue rings around a black center that dilated in direct proportion to my approach. Every nerve in my body was alight, every sense aligned to the golden angel before me, and I'd crossed the room, tangled my hand into her hair before I even realized I had doomed and saved us both. .

I was seized by something deeper than instinct and stronger than impulse, something more arcane and mysterious than mere lust for body or blood. It was cataclysmic.

Like titans clashing in the heavens, hostile impulses warred within me – to feed? Or to mate?

In either case, it was imperative to _drink_. There was no moment of deliberation. An unparalleled and rapacious thirst burned every thought from my brain. I tilted her head to the side and descended, swift as an adder, to the creamy skin on her neck.

Agony!

Ecstasy!

Her blood was utterly sublime.

I was swept away. Grief and loss, guilt and shame – her blood baptized me, washed it all away. I lived a thousand years in that moment. It was like waking from a nightmare into a dream.

A metamorphosis churned within me. Since my transformation from mortal man to eternal waking dead, I had not been so moved – had not been so _changed_. It was a dreadfully exquisite comprehension. It was instinct, impulse, desire. Beyond that it was a _need_ so deep I would self-destruct if I could not sate it. This was inhuman. Animalistic. Both more feral than biological imperative, more lasting even than bride... This was _eternal_ _mate_.

My swallows kept pace with the rapid beating of her heartbeat. As it slowed, so did I.

I ripped my teeth away from her neck, shaking and trembling with the effort of my restraint, as I let the venom pulse and pool in my mouth, collecting. And when I was certain both that I had enough and that I could not contain it any longer, I bent to her again and let the venom drench the gaping wound.

_She was mine!_

The words roared inside my head – feral, impassioned, absolute.

_My mate!_

_Mine!_

Even as the fire set into her blood, the innocent flower in my clutches began to pray. "Beneath your compassion, We take refuge, O Mother of God: do not despise our petitions in time of trouble: but rescue us from dangers, only pure, only blessed one."

She would be my light. She would show me how to live again.

The most minute sound seized my attention - it was merely an echo of an echo from the far end of remote passageway. And yet I knew. The approach of another!

_Feli__x._

Gently, I set her down upon the tile floor of the balcony before the fit of fury overwhelmed me. My rage at Aro, Felix, even at my own complacent service in this chamber of horrors swelled and intensified. The fear I would lose my mate conjoined with the ecstasy of her blood surging through my body. It was the first true terror I'd felt since my change though it was conjoined also with the first true hope.

Nothing would take her away from me. They could tear me limb from limb and throw me in the fire, and still my pieces would struggle for her.

Felix turned into the corridor that would lead him to us just as I made my way to the chamber entrance. His smile was both cruel and smug.

"Oh, _cucciolo di orso_, what have you done?" he taunted. "Aro will be so… displeased. You know how he hates to part with a new toy."

I snarled at him and dropped into a crouch. At the opposite end of the narrow hall he did the same. My eyes darted around the space, looking for something, anything, to give me an advantage over Felix.

"I noticed you had gone before Aro did," he continued. "But I said nothing. I saw the way you stood in front of her. Trying to keep her for yourself."

Felix was spoiling for a fight, but still he adored the sound of his own voice. "I'm surprised you didn't tattle. You're always looking for a way to curry favor." I used his arrogance to my advantage and calculated my attack as he prattled on.

"I wanted to give you time with your little plaything." He crept toward me as he spoke. "Let you damn yourself. Now I won't have to wait for Aro's blessing to get you in the ring." His smile turned particularly vicious then. I'd spent years watching him fight, and I knew his tells. His first strike was imminent. "He sent me after you, you know. He could have sent Jane or Alec, but he sent–"

I didn't wait for him to finish speaking. Mammoth stone pillars flanked the doorway, and I flew upon the first, tearing it from its bearings before he could close the distance between us.

That first column struck him in the chest as I hurled it down the passageway, knocking him back until he lost the distance he had gained. The stonework walls began to quake and crumble around us.

I didn't pause to savor his look of surprise. I ripped away the second column from its post and feinted as if to throw again. When Felix moved aside to counter, I changed course and swung the pillar into the last remaining masonry supports, further crippling the walls.

Felix lost precious time gaping at the stone ramparts that trembled above him while I staggered back into the safety of Aro's room. Huge slabs of stone ceiling fell like an avalanche, decimating the hall and burying Felix beneath the mountainous rubble. It would not stop him, but it would buy us time.

I dove for my angel, lifted her into my arms and crossed the balcony to its edge.

For the first time I let myself believe in the words of Virgil: _Omnia vincit amor et nos cedamus amori!_ _Love conquers all; let us all yield to love!_

Rosalie. My light, my angel, my salvation.

We had only one chance – flee, now, across the rooftops. I bent my knees, coiling power in my lower half like a tightened spring, and leapt out into the dark night air.

Known more for my strength and size than for my speed, still I bolted along the ridged peaks of the city with an inhuman velocity, clutching my prize guardedly to my chest. I was moving with pure instinct, barely aware of the wind whipping past us as I ran until I felt my angel's fingertips touch my face. They were icy, far colder than just moments before. Was it the winter air, or was it the change?

Tsuritsa. My Dam would know.

My black cape, an affectation required to satisfy Aro's taste for theatricality, bellowed in the air behind me like demonic wings. I ripped it from my back and wrapped it protectively around my mate as I considered our distance from here in the heart of Italy to the Carpathian Mountains of Romania where I had last seen Tsuritsa. She was thousands of kilometers away by land, if she was even there. Still, the distance could be shortened considerably if we could cross the Adriatic. A small craft to bear her as I pushed us through the waves would be easy to take under cover of night. Travel over water would certainly impede Felix's ability to track us.

Track... _No..._

My foot slipped from the ridgeline, scattering loose clay tiles down the roof to crash against the cobblestone streets below as I stumbled. Instinctively I leapt away from the commotion, changing course to alight upon a different rooftop and continue my flight even as my thoughts scrabbled for new purchase.

Aro would set Felix on me, certainly, but to find me first he would use Demetri, the most cunning and relentless tracker known to the Volturi. Rosalie's heart beat a sudden and vicious staccato in her chest as if she could sense my new fear.

Bounding from rooftop to rooftop, I attempted to leave as little trace of our progress behind me as I could. Soon we reached the edge of the hilltop city of Volterra, and though I dreaded the vulnerability of being out in the open, it was essential to gain distance from Aro's wrath. Perhaps Demetri might be distracted by the mass of human scents just one second more, a second that could mean all the difference.

One final leap and we descended into the vast rolling plains and vineyards beyond the city wall. I flew east at a breakneck speed, hurtling towards the snow-capped Apennines that stood between us and the sea.

Time. I needed more time.

After leaving the dense cover and close quarters of Volterra where the smell of human blood was a daily backdrop to the dark pageantry of my existence with the Volturi, I was surprised to find my nostrils flare in mild distaste as we passed through the surrounding village. After the ambrosia of my angel's blood, I doubted any other blood would ever hold such savor for me or taste as sweet. I was suddenly able to fathom the idea of existing solely on animals, and the thought of it cracked open a new realm of possibility.

The wheaten plains gave way to steeper foothills dotted with wild groves of chestnut, which in turn gave way to open forest as the incline grew. First towering beech and oak, then the needled green of conifer, each league that passed under my feet, each stride I took deeper into the forest brought me closer to something akin to calm determination. This was a terrain that I could understand on an elemental level. Though distinct memories of my human life could only be viewed through the shuttered lens of time and fiery transformation, it seemed I was still the mountain son of my origins. This was my domain, and I flew up the mountain with renewed ambition.

As we climbed the forest in pursuit of the Adriatic's shore, snow began to fall. I took little notice, as the elements were no source of discomfort to my own stonied exterior, but when my pale angel shivered against me I knew I'd have to leave off our route for the ocean and find shelter for her. The plumes of white fog drifting lazily from the hillside across the ravine I crossed alerted me to the possibility of a nearby cave that we might find suitable as a dwelling and I turned in the direction of the curling clouds.

_Grotte dell'Infierno. The Caves of Hell._

The irony. Still, I was without many choices and needed to shelter her from the elements quickly. I entered the cave quickly and followed its descent to the deepest point within the limestone walls. Here in the bats' own subterranean home I might find a few moments of advantage against the eventual appearance of Demetri. We had no need of light, even so deep within the Earth, as our sight was more heightened than the small creatures who made this cavern their home, but mortal experience taught me every being, man, animal, or somewhere eternally in between them, needed a moment's orientation to an awkward and unusual space.

I seated myself on the stone floor, gingerly cradling my mate in my lap. A slight layer of powdery snow lay in her hair, and I brushed it away carefully. She was very still in my arms, though her heartbeat fluttered like a hummingbird's wing when I gently traced my finger along the features of her face. Her intoxicating scent had not dimmed since that encounter in the stone passageway when I first saw her mere hours ago. If anything, it had intensified since I drank from her and she began to change. I traced my fingertips along her jaw and down her throat towards the bite I inflicted, drawing back the edge of the cape wrapped around her for warmth. The wound was closed – under a fine smear of dried blood her skin was flawless except for two jagged silvery crescents that seemed to hum under my touch.

A glint caught my eye, and I noticed something I had missed in my early frantic and predatory appraisals. A slim silver chain lay in the curve where her neck met her shoulder. I dipped my fingers under it, let it run like water through them as I felt for a pendant or a charm. Fallen to the back, I found it under her hair; I pulled it forward and examined it gently.

As I looked at it, my fingers remembered clasping a dainty silver cross around a graceful neck once upon a time. My palm remembered rubbing a belly finally – finally! – swollen with my child. My fist remembered crushing the overseas telegram informing me of their death. Such an insubstantial slip of paper to carry such heavy news.

The ever-present anguish, my sole companion these many years, welled up in me like a seismic wave and broke open the strained surface of my grief. I felt unsettled, a strange void opening in my long-dead chest. My hand shook as I touched that tiny silver cross covered in roses encircling my angel's neck.

Roses for my Rose.

"Rosalie," I whispered, testing out the sound of her name for the first time. "Rose. My Rosie."

A foreign lightness of being rushed in to fill the vacuum. I pressed my face to hers and struggled to put a name to it.

Was it – Could it be–

_Hope?_

"You're rather more clever than I'd credited you with, Emmett."

Despite his loyalty to Aro, there was almost an air of regret in the voice that jolted me from my revelation.

Demetri – flanked by Alec and Jane – stood at the opening to the cave.

"Just not quite clever enough."

*****_**O don fatale!**__**- Rosalie***_

Every sense was at war and my body was the battlefield. I was buffeted by freezing heat, falling ascension, placid fear and a cadence not my own ringing in my ears.

_Mineminemineminemine…_

I had become the willing possession of something not of the world but as elemental to me as my own skin and bone and blood. My neck flamed, pulsed a strange and frigid liquid heavier than my own life's fluid through my veins leaving an inferno behind it. I screamed and prayed and sobbed against the safe confines of my angel's chest. At one instant I was twisted rigid with the pulse of his cataclysmic venom heedlessly marching through me, then in the same moment, quick as a hummingbird's wing, I fell into the vast cradle of his arms, spent and unable to support my own flesh. As soon as the cycle ended it began again, breaking bones, immediately hardening them, taking old memories and dashing them against rocky mental cliffs leaving only the most important of them etched in supreme clarity for eternity. He was taking me there, to an endlessness I couldn't comprehend in a human's paltry conscience.

I knew this later, remembering it with precise detail. As it happened I knew nothing more than agony and my angel.

When he cleared the town gates and took us back to Earth with a final leap, I knew I had been saved, not stolen, and protected with every fragment of my angel's being. I allowed myself a minute shift so I might look at his face again. He was beautiful, stunning in fact, and I found my fingers moving toward his clenched jaw. So cold were his skin and my fingers, I failed to discern where one began and the other found its end.

He paused, the black woolen cape clenched about his neck dancing away from his towering frame. In the moonlight it looked like sooty wings unfurled behind us, convincing me even further in my state that I was, indeed, being borne to my own Gehenna to await judgment for my mortal sins. Suddenly his garment was twining around me, surrounding me in his scent but oddly no warmth was contained within the folds from his body. I made to speak but was silenced immediately by his own long fingers against my lips. He moved his head slightly, as if even those movements must be restricted, and I knew I must be as silent and still as possible or risk discovery by the other colossal …_ other_. I had no word at the ready to describe the dark angel who bore me or the red-eyed giant who pursued us, but it was absolutely not 'man'.

The scent of him comforted me, gave my mind a place of shelter against the unrelenting pain that ravaged me. Inside the safe bastion of my angel's presence I had little comprehension of the physical world around me. Once I opened my eyes to peer into the night and found myself without him, cloistered within a place of absolute dark and further cloaked in a swirling fog heavy with a stench of animals. His arms were around me immediately, silencing my terrified screaming.

"Shhhh, angel. It's just a cave I've hidden us in. I've been guarding the entrance."

"Thought you'd gone..." I heard my voice, knew it was mine because of the familiar timbre and movement of my own musculature, but the sound! Ah, the sound, like a thousand bells and raindrops on spring buds, more refined than even the enchanting woman who had taken me from the square outside Santo Domingo earlier that day.

Gathering me to him, he stood with ease and pressed on, now ascending within the cave. I could feel the temperature rise slighty with our position and inhaled sweeter fresh air from the mouth of the cave. Comforted once again with his presence, I settled as close to him as possible, fighting every cell in my body that begged me to scream in protest at the agony assaulting me. Occasionally his hand would brush my hair or even my cheek. Once I am sure he spoke my name, laughing softly as he tried it on his voice. The sound lulled me further, another part of him I could hold on to as the cold fire consumed me inch by inch.

"Rosalie."

A name I'd never particularly cared for, one handed down through my mother's family, now sounded like ambrosia dripping from his tongue. I knew nothing of him but knew this: my dark-winged angel, so agonized with his ownheavy remorse, somehow made parts of me answer as though we had been together for thousands of years.

Almost as if we were immortal.

Movement again, and this time accompanied with other voices, rousted me from the semi-conscious state I retreated into as a bastion against the fire consuming me. An angry hiss like that of a threatened snake shook me completely into full awareness. As his arms crushed me against his chest, I couldn't bear more and screamed at the heightened pain.

"Leave her, Alec," another voice, higher and even more melodious than I'd heard from myself, commanded. "Emmett comes willingly, he might be a brute, but he's no fool. Let him carry the human since he's so enamored of it."

_It?_ This woman... a girl, really, was speaking of me. I gathered my old, familiar air of haughtiness and lifted my chin toward this child who dared speak of me so disparagingly.

"How dare -" I started, only to be pressed once again my angel, the man they called Emmett.

"Shhh... Rosalie, don't provoke her. You're still human. You might not survive her wrath." He pressed his lips against my ear, gentling my ire by humming a tune I could almost recall from my childhood.

And we moved again.

His... Emmett's... speed was so great I whined pathetically, nauseated now with the sense of propulsion far faster than any human was meant to move.

_Human_. And he was not. And I was becoming _not_.

Suddenly the pieces of the puzzle fell sickeningly into place. The inferno consuming my body was leaving something harder and indelicate in its wake. It was beyond comprehension but utterly simple at the same time. To be with him, the man whose very essence called to me, I would become inhuman; incapable of the human life I'd held dear for so long. I shifted in his arms so I could look on him in the pre-dawn dusk. The same face I'd seen step from the shadows of the Caravaggio was still there, now even more alarmingly beautiful as though my perfect vision had been refined. His eyes shifted from the landscape we traversed to mine once, then again, and he smiled down at me.

I knew then this elemental change was worth any loss. I belonged with him, regardless of what I left behind.

When Emmett sat me down on the stone dais I screamed and clawed at the cold marble underneath me, begging over the mordant voice of another man. .

"Why should I allow such impertinence unchecked, Emmett? You've not only taken from my mouth, child, but went a'wandering without my leave."

"Name your punishment or price, Aro. I'll pay it again and again if I must. Just let her complete her change and give me your word you'll keep her safe."

"My dear _cucciolo di orso_. I hardly think you're in the position to bargain with me."

"No." I felt him move closer to me once more. "But even you, Aro, respect the sanctity of the mated."

"Ah, yes." Footsteps announced the creature Emmett referred to as Aro's approach. "A mate for our Emmett at last. Very well." A sharp clap rang out through a cavernous room, and I whined at the needle-like echoes against my newly sensitive ears. "Children, our dear Emmett has mated with this human and now hopes to change her, without my permission, to join our kind. Far be it from me to stand in the way of two who would be _so _conjoined. Thus, a wager for you, Emmett." The sound of this Aro's pleasant banter chilled my scorched bones. "If you best Felix in combat you may have your mate. Otherwise you and she will burn."

"Not her. Me, of course. Take me and make it slow if it pleases you, Aro, but not her!" My guardian's voice resonated within my own battered body, the husky sound assuring me he was still close.

"Oh, now, come brave Emmett." Aro's laughter rang out again, this time even more menacing. "Do you think my offer unappealing? Am I not generous given your impertinence?"

Silence. Dead silence.

"Am I not generous? Am I not merciful?" Aro shouted, and the very stones supporting me trembled in response.

"Of course. Very generous, most merciful." Emmett said, his own voice steady and calm as black night. "I accept."

_***Alla presenza del Grande Inquisitore - Emmett***_

Felix was arrogant – so self-assured as he circled me. Not that his haughty pride was unearned. He had never lost a fight, his ability to keep one step ahead of his opponents was well-known, and he certainly believed the castle whispers that he possessed some secret luck. As substantial as my own frame was, Felix had me at a disadvantage in both height and weight that was not insignificant.

He also had a clear desire to see me fail. No - to see me dead.

What I did have to combat Aro's devilish Hercules?

One pure and driving motivation - a life, free of this place, together with the instrument of my redemption. I had hope: the triumphal hope of light over dark, right over wrong, and love over the abyss.

I knew in my mortal life I'd never retreated from a challenge, even thrived on them. So I would now. I brought my fists up and hunkered down into a boxing stance like I was Joe Louis ready to take back the world championship belt in '38.

I had one more advantage none of his other foes had ever had – and perhaps one he would not take into account – the experience of watching him fight for nearly two decades.

Let him dismiss me.

Let him come.

I narrowed my eyes at the preening brute and waited patiently for his overblown first attack. As I expected, Felix came at me with his full fury, a combination of childish bluster and ego. He neared and I stepped back, allowing him even closer, then propelled my shoulder toward his advancing face, sending him flying across the grand chamber and into a marble relief of Hades impaling a sea serpent. The collision sounded like the very earth renting apart as it heaved against itself.

"Emmett, do mind the structure," Aro intoned as though he were barely interested in our fight. . Felix chuckled as he shook pulverized marble from his hair and stood, spitting a partial tooth to his side.

The next assault from Felix had none of the showy finesse of a human. He feinted, crouching low to the ground and gathering his strength from the glossy marble floor he paced. In response, I let my body vibrate with warning, the leonine sound of my own challenge rippling through the silent assembly.

He was quick, but lacked the finesse of an older, wiser human that remained with me as an immortal. We clung to each other, our razor-sharp teeth on full display and angry snarls rising from both of our chests.

The second assault was a draw. Felix and I managed to sling the other across the vast stone hall, my body taking a gilded column as I collided with it, Felix landing sprawled among a throng of the assembled, tackling several in his wake. We both rose immediately, made no pretense of evaluating or preparation, and raced directly at each other, snarling, venom streaming from our exposed teeth and completely devoid of any similarity to the human forms we held. Stripped to our base nature. Not human, but large and dangerous predators fighting for dominion and survival.

Blows landed like hammers ringing against anvils, hands curved into claws attempted to slash and rip. We grappled, our faces close and jaws snapping but neither able to gain advantage over the other. A glint appeared in his crimson eyes as Felix scented the air. "She really does smell quite appealing. How was her blood? Was it worth the price you're about to pay?" He bared his teeth in a smile that was both lascivious and sadistic. "I'll enjoy sampling the rest of her… delights… after you're nothing more than ash and smoke."

Fury at the thought of him defiling my golden angel crashed through me like a lightning bolt. I reared my head back and snapped it forward, bashing my skull against the bridge of his nose. He clutched at his face, releasing me, and I seized the opportunity. My fist connected with his throat with a sickening grind and crunch. The blow wouldn't kill him like it would a human, but it would shut his damned filthy mouth.

Killing him was next.

Both my hands shot out and took hold of Felix's neck as he reeled from my attack. Using my grip on his throat for leverage, I drove my knee into his unprotected groin. He buckled, and I used his own mass and instability against him, forcing him to his knees.

Felix looked up at me, mute and eyes wild with terror, as I began to twist his head from his body.

My heart should have been pounding in my chest, the sound of blood rushing in my ears, but there was only the harsh sound of my unnecessary breath seething through my clenched teeth. I could feel the vibrations of creaking rock under my fingers, and I could see tiny fissures open and expand as I plied an intensifying force.

The image of Caravaggio's David holding the head of Goliath appeared before my mind's eye. Would that be me?

The moment weighed on me, pressing perilously. Did he deserve this? Did anyone? Was there truly no other way free?

Would I still be worthy of my saving angel once it was done?

I looked into Felix's eyes and saw true fear.

But not remorse.

I filled my chest with a deep breath I didn't need and readied myself to deliver the final blow.

"My dear Emmett…" Aro's voice rang clear in the deathly silence of the room. Both Felix and I froze at the sound of his voice and the air I had reflexively took in as I prepared to deliver the death blow to my opponent caught in my throat.

Aro's robes rustled quietly as he drew near.

"Yes, M— Aro?" Years of obedience warred with my new yearning for freedom from this tyranny of nightmares and grief. No matter what the outcome, I would call him Master no longer.

He placed a hand on my cheek, and I swallowed against the revulsion that welled up in me at the touch – so unlike the caresses of my angel. As Aro used his gift to read my thoughts, I watched the expressions on his face flicker from jaded amusement to sick delight.

With a sated sigh he removed his hand and looked down at the man whose life I held in my grip. "I think we've had quite enough entertainment for the evening, don't you agree, Felix?"

I tensed. Was this some trick? "What–?"

The ancient Volturi waved his hand at me regally. "You may go. You and the girl both." His smile was ominous. "Though I do expect that you will visit me from time to time to pay your respects, yes? Of course you will." He tapped the back of my hand lightly, and with a start I realized I was still a hair's breadth from snapping Felix's head from his shoulders. I loosened my grasp and took a hasty step back. Felix slumped, glowering at me and rubbing his throat.

Aro turned away, gliding towards the rear doors and gathering his retinue with an imperious flick of his fingers. Almost as an afterthought he said, "Do give Carlisle my best, won't you?"

A flicker of movement caught my eye as Felix shifted his weight at vampire-speed and was at once before me within striking distance. Instantly I found myself in a defensive crouch again.

"_Felix!_" Aro hissed without even turning around. "Do not disappoint me again so soon."

With a final petulant snarl Felix backed away and took his place at Aro's coattails.

When I was certain Aro meant to keep his end of the agreement, I walked purposely to the golden beauty who lay rigid on the hard stone at the edge of our impromptu arena. She convulsed in her immolation, her screams now silent as her vocal chords had been too abused to continue making sound. I gathered her to me, pressing my face to her chest for a brief moment to scent her deeply. The smell of her, the feel of her in my arms soothed my savage beast. So too, her contracted body relaxed into my arms and her breathing steadied at my touch. With a a final nod to Aro, I turned my back on all that I had been in this dreary half-life before she came to me and strode from the room.

As soon as we cleared the castle, I broke into a run, flying through the streets once again with my flaxen-haired angel.

_My grace._

Already I could see the signs of her change. Her skin had taken on the pallor of our kind and begun to shimmer with crystalline iridescence. Her blue eyes, wide open yet unfocused like a child's doll, were shot through with feral spikes of red. The plush curves of her body had already begun to harden into a more animalistic, more staggeringly voluptuous form. She would be absolutely magnificent when she awoke from the fire. Magnificent and mine, for eternity.

Again I turned east. Tsuritsa first, to help navigate Rosalie's change, and after that perhaps…

_Famiglia?_

_Stregoni benifici._

A glimmer of something old and long-buried flared in my chest like the first sliver of dawn finally appearing after a night without end.

East – towards Romania, towards the sunrise, and strangely, unfamiliarly, towards hope.

******_**Grande Finale - Duetto**_*****

_But there I saw you in a better world,_

_The future already striking for us the hour;_

_IAnd there we shall find in the lap of compassion_

_The longed-for well of our escape on earth!_

_On that day, that we will have eternal tomorrow,_

_Our profane names forgotten, our love remains._

_***Fin***_


	62. One Shot from TwilightMundi

**Penname**:

**Rating**: M

**Title**: Hiking

**Pairing: Emmett & Rosalie**

**Summary: **What happens when Emmett and Rosalie spend a few hours hiking in the Niagara Gorge?

**Disclaimer: **I own none of this. Stephenie Meyer owns E&R, I'm just putting them into kinky situations.

**A/N: My heartfelt thanks to Kimpy0464 and EllaB_Twilight for their awesome comments and suggestions when this story was in its beginning stages. You ladies made me a better writer. And, always, love to MsKathy for her support, suggestions, and beta work. **

**The following story is based on actual events. **

Dappled light filtered through the canopy of trees overhead, the brilliant blue sky broken here and there by puffy, white clouds. The July day was hot, approaching 90 as the afternoon came, but the heat was mitigated somewhat in the Niagara Gorge, the high cliffs keeping the direct sun away for much of the morning. There were also some points along the trail where we were close enough to the river that we could feel a little bit of spray that was kicked up when the water splashed over a particularly large rock or the wind caught it just right.

"Hey, Em, let's stop for a minute," I called ahead to my husband, who was hiking in front of me. I needed to stop for a minute to grab a drink of water and fix my ponytail.

Emmett turned around and walked back to me. We moved off the trail a little bit, closer to the river's edge, so that other hikers could get around us. I shrugged the backpack off my shoulders, pulled out my water bottle and took a long drink, then offered it to Emmett. While he drank, I pulled the band out of my hair, gathered the stray hairs back up, and retied the ponytail high on my head. The growing heat, combined with the physical exertion of the hike, was making me sweat, and I didn't want my hair to be plastered on my neck any more than it needed to be.

By the time I'd finished, Em had returned the water bottle to the backpack and wrapped his arms around my waist. He started nuzzling my neck while we looked at the river rushing past us.

"Mmm, I love it when you get all sweaty," he muttered as he licked up the side of my neck and nipped at my ear.

"Uh, Em, that's kinda gross," I teased, though I couldn't hide the fact that my nipples had hardened under my tank top and sports bra.

"No, it's not. It's me appreciating the natural smell of you, without it being disguised under all the perfumey stuff you women wear every day. Pheromones, baby. Ever hear of pheromones?"

I turned around in his arms and buried my face in his neck, inhaling deeply. "Mmm, yeah, I've heard of pheromones. Now, what do you say we keep walking, handsome? I think we still have over a mile to go before we get to the Whirlpool."

He gave me a quick kiss and pat on the ass, and we took off again. This time I took the lead, and Emmett took the backpack.

We were hiking the Niagara Gorge for the first time. We'd come to Niagara Falls on vacation with Emmett's brother Edward and his wife Bella, and his sister Alice and her husband Jasper, and had done all sorts of touristy things: we rode on the Maid of the Mist, went to the Cave of the Winds, and crossed over to Niagara Falls, Canada to see the Falls from that angle. We also drove a little out of the downtown area to visit We also the Butterfly Conservatory and the Botanical Gardens. We'd even spent a day touring wineries in Niagara-on-the-Lake. This weekend, though, Alice wanted to take a side trip to Toronto, and had somehow convinced Bella, and thus Edward, to go along. I think she'd thrown in talk of Broadway-quality shows to sweeten the deal.

Whatever the incentive, it meant that Emmett and I stayed behind in Niagara Falls, enjoying each other's company without the others around. Don't get me wrong, I love them as if they were my own, but it's nice to have alone time with your own husband, too. And boy, had we been taking advantage of that alone time.

With that thought in mind, I gave my ass an extra little wiggle and glanced over my shoulder. Sure enough, Emmett was staring at my booty. It's a good thing we were on a flat part of the trail at that point, because Emmett was not paying attention to where he was stepping, and would probably have landed on his pretty face if the trail had been at all rough.

"Enjoying the view, baby?"

"I always enjoy that view, Rosie." Em gave me a wink as he caught up with me and smacked my ass. I wrapped my hand around the back of his neck and pulled his head down for a kiss. It quickly grew heated. I pulled away as I heard footsteps coming toward us from both directions. Oh, yeah, we were still on a public path.

We continued our hike, the trail becoming rougher. We were soon maneuvering over rock falls of varying heights, finally coming to one that was marked with the option of taking an upper or lower trail. We chose the lower trail to stay closer to the river, which had been getting progressively rockier, the closer we got to the rapids.

After making our way down the big rock fall, we were rewarded with large, flat rocks overlooking a large section of the whirlpool. A number of hikers – couples as well as families – were taking advantage of the space to take a break and enjoy the view.

Emmett and I found an unoccupied section of rock and sat down. Em spread his legs and pulled me between them. I leaned back against his chest and he wrapped his arms around me, enveloping me in a hug. I pulled out the water bottle and some trail mix, and we sat there for a while, snacking and talking, exchanging small kisses and touches while we relaxed.

Just as I was starting to get drowsy from the sun and being in Emmett's arms, he nudged me. "Come on, beautiful, let's keep going. We have to get to the end of this trail."

I groaned as I got up. Em just chuckled at me as he gathered our stuff and put it back in the backpack.

He pulled me in for a kiss. "I'm leading this time. You're too slow."

"You just get distracted when I'm in the lead."

"Yeah, now it's your turn to be distracted." He shook his ass, then turned to continue down the path.

The trail continued to be rough, but there were enough smooth sections to allow us to stop and step to the side for kisses and inappropriate touching. Well, inappropriate for public. Damn tourists. Damn pheromones.

After another half hour or so we came to another area with large, flat rocks. This was much more open than the first, with more space to spread out. The rocks were amazing, some with bowl-shaped depressions worn into them from the water, others with crescents curved into the sides. We wandered around looking at the geological formations for a while, and then found a nook between two rocks where we could relax in relative privacy.

We refreshed ourselves with water and some fruit, and then cuddled up like we had before. Emmett ran his hands up and down my arms, and I tilted my head back for a kiss. I opened my mouth immediately, and his tongue entered, slowly stroking mine, withdrawing to gently trace my lips, then delving back to meet my tongue again. His hands cupped my breasts, his thumbs running over my nipples. I moaned into his mouth, arching my back, my hands running up and down his thighs.

Our idyll was broken by the sounds of laughter and talking much too close to our hideout. I looked up to see a group of teenagers about three feet away. I didn't think they'd seen us yet, so I didn't want to push our luck. I certainly didn't want to demonstrate what they'd seen in their father's Playboy magazines and their wet dreams.

Em moved his kisses to my neck, running his hands to my belly and inching them under the waistband of my shorts. I grabbed his hands.

"Em, no, there are kids _right there_," I whispered.

"It's okay, they won't see us," he muttered.

"They just have to glance this way. Now stop!"

"You're no fun," he muttered as he moved his hands to my arms.

"Yeah, well, I don't think we need to give those kids that kind of education."

Emmett snorted. "It's probably nothing they haven't already done."

I just rolled my eyes at him and looked back at the water. That's when I realized that there were hikers on the Canadian side of the river, too, and we weren't hidden from them at all. And they weren't that far away. Great, we'd just been putting on a live peep show.

"Oh, crap, do you think those people over there saw us?"

"Maybe. Wouldn't that be hot, baby?" His voice got husky and he started kissing my neck again. "If they saw how gorgeous you are when you're turned on? When I'm kissing you and feeling your beautiful tits?"

I moaned and my eyes drifted closed. . I felt the effects of his words and his kisses go straight to my pussy, building on the excitement his previous kisses had created. His hands moved back to my belly, the tips of his fingers wandering ever so slowly under my waistband. I could feel him brush the curls there, before he removed his hand.

"Yeah, I can tell how turned on you are. It's going to be a bitch hiking all the way back to the car, isn't it?" he teased, running his nose up my neck before gently nibbling my ear.

My eyes flew open, and I met his glittering eyes. "You are an evil man, Emmett Cullen!" I said. I turned to face him, and ran my hand down his stomach. I smiled slyly. "At least I won't be the only one suffering," I said as I grabbed his hard cock, giving it a squeeze.

Emmett groaned. "Truce?"

"Truce." I smiled, gave him a peck on the lips, and moved away from him slightly so he could, uh, get things under control.

When Emmett could once again stand without embarrassment, we decided to head back. We took it slower on the return trip, allowing for more touching and kissing breaks. On each break I did something to keep up the teasing. One time, I bent over to tie my hiking boot (that didn't need to be retied), making sure my shorts rode down enough to give Em a glimpse of my lacy thong. He may have growled. Another time, after giving Emmett the water bottle and looking out at the rapids, I gave a big stretch, exaggerating the arch of my back, sticking out my tits and ass as I worked out "kinks" from our walk. Before I could relax my arms, Emmett was behind me, arms wrapped around my middle, pulling my ass back into his very hard cock.

While we had been walking back, and not teasing each other, Em seemed to be looking for something. Suddenly, he stopped and pulled me into an area where there was a large space between the path and the side of the cliff. He led me behind a bunch of bushes to a gathering of large boulders.

"Emmett, wha-"

Before I could finish the question, Emmett's mouth was on mine, his tongue brushing my lips, his arms pulling me close to him. I opened my mouth to him and wrapped my arms around his neck.

He pulled away from my mouth, moving down my jaw to my neck. "I can't wait until we get back to the hotel. I need you now."

"But, the other hikers-"

"Can't see us through the bushes unless they stare hard," Em interrupted. "They're more interested in watching the river than in looking this way. As long as you're quiet," he added with a twinkle in his eye.

He sat down on one of the boulders, pulling me onto his lap, facing away from him. Sitting in the same position we'd been in earlier, I couldn't help but remember how it felt when he talked about people watching us. Knowing that people were walking by a mere three feet away, with just a narrow scrim of bushes separating us from them, was an incredible thrill. I leaned back into Emmett, spreading my legs both for balance and to give him access. I shifted back on his lap, and felt his hard cock against my ass.

Emmett's hands ran down my sides, then back up to cup my tits. His thumbs brushed over my nipples, making them tighten in response. He simultaneously kissed and nibbled at my neck and ear while plucking at my nipples, making me moan in need. I turned my head, begging for another kiss. He obliged, opening to me so I could be the aggressor this time.

When I moved my lips to his neck, I felt his hands once again move down my belly, unbuttoning and unzipping my shorts, then slipping under my panties. The first touch of his fingers on my wet pussy was heaven, and another moan escaped.

"Mmm, Rosie, you're so beautiful," he whispered and nuzzled and licked my neck and ear. "I love that you're so hot and wet for me. Do you like the thought of strangers walking past just a few feet away while I'm fingering your pussy?"

I could only moan in response as he rubbed between my lips, touching every part of me he could reach in this somewhat awkward position. It felt so good to have his fingers on me after all the teasing. I closed my eyes, moaning again when his other hand went back to my tits to play with my nipples. With one hand between my thighs, one on my tits, and his mouth on my neck, I finally came, my cries of ecstasy muffled by his mouth.

Emmett pulled his hand out of my shorts and licked his fingers clean. I got off the rock, turned, and unfastened his shorts, taking out his hard cock. I squatted in front of him, licking the precum off the head, then moved down the shaft until I had his entire length in my mouth. Slowly, I pulled back up and glided back down, over and over, moving my mouth and my hand in unison. Emmett gently took hold of my ponytail, whether to keep it out of the way or to exert some control, I wasn't quite sure. After a few minutes, he tugged on my ponytail to pull me off his cock. I looked at him questioningly.

"I want to fuck you, baby," he said, his voice husky with arousal, his lust-filled eyes roving over my body.

He got off the rock, turned me to face it and put my hands against it, pushed my shorts down, and swiftly shoved his cock into me from behind. I couldn't stop the long moan that escaped from me. The moment I felt him in me, I knew that this was what made all the teasing worth it. As talented as his fingers were, they couldn't hold a candle to his thick, hard cock. The sensation of being filled by him was just as amazing as our very first time; it never got old. Securing his hands to my hips for leverage, Em began thrusting into me, slowly at first, then gradually picking up momentum. I knew that neither of us was going to last long, especially when he leaned forward, reaching around to rub my clit. I had to bite my lip to hold back any sound, knowing that we could be interrupted at any moment by innocent passers-by, who I could hear talking and laughing on the other side of the bushes. Suddenly, I felt my orgasm hit. My muscles contracted into spasms, my back arching into him, trying to get him even closer, deeper inside of me. Emmett slammed into me a few more times before he held my hips tightly against his, his whole body shaking.

After a minute, Emmett withdrew, helping me stand up straight, and hugging me from behind.

"Wow," I breathed, kissing his neck.

"Yeah. Think you can make it back to the car now?"

"I think so. Good thing the hotel's not too far away. I may need a replay of that."

"Oh, I'll replay that any time you want, baby."

You can see pictures from the trail Emmett and Rosalie hiked here: http:/picasaweb(dot)google(dot)com/twilightmundi/NiagaraGorgeNiagaraFallsNY#

The pics were taken in October, not the middle of summer when E&R were there, but you can get a sense of what they were seeing (other than each other).


	63. One Shot by Jarielynn

**Penname: **Jarielynn

**Title: **The Love of a Man

**Rating: **M

I met him when I was thirty-three years old. It was Black Friday and we were standing in line at Toys R Us. He was holding a baby doll, one of those that cried whenever you moved it. His face was pink as he fidgeted with the doll, trying to get her to stop crying.

"Here," I said, handing him the box of Legos I was holding, taking the doll from him. After successfully finding and hitting the off switch, I looked up at him.

His eyes were crinkled and his mouth turned up into a generous smile. "Thank you." His eyes met mine and for a minute I forgot to breathe. Their intense color reminded me of warm summer days spent on the beach in Mexico. They were the same shade of blue as the ocean and just as clear. I must have been staring too long, because he blushed again and shifted his gaze to the doll I still held.

"You're welcome."

The line finally moved, forcing me to look away from him and take a step forward. We stopped again and I handed him the doll and took my Legos. I shifted nervously from one foot to the other, desperately wanting to talk to him but feeling completely out of my league. He was gorgeous and young, probably around twenty-five. I secretly tried to check him out from the corner of my eye.

Damn, he was big. Not just tall, but muscular and solid. His jeans hugged his hips and I wondered how obvious it would be if I slipped behind him to check out his butt. I was sure it had to be something spectacular. His shoulders were broad and his chest defined. The winter coat he had on was unbuttoned and pushed back, allowing me to take him all in. And there was a _lot_ to take in. I felt my self grow warm and quickly averted my eyes, but I was too late. I had been caught.

He cleared his throat and looked up from the floor, his eyes flashing amusement. "See something you like?" It could've sounded cocky, but it lost its effect when his voice cracked at the end. He rolled his eyes and gave a quiet chuckle before grinning and looking at the floor.

"God, I'm such an idiot," he mumbled so lowly I could barely hear him.

My throat suddenly felt quite parched from the mortification I felt at getting caught ogling him. I reached into the cooler next to us and pulled out two Cokes. I offered him one and he took it, nodding his thanks.

I decided to just go for it and hoped I didn't make a total ass out of myself. "Actually, yeah, I did." He raised his head as his eyes widened and his moth formed into a slow grin. The smile showed off two deep dimples, one on each side. "I'm Rose."

"Emmett."

The line began to move and he was next. I watched him pay the cashier, wanting to say something before he left and I never saw him again. "Wait!" I called out and immediately felt like a complete fool. "I mean, don't leave. Wait until I pay and I'll walk out with you."

I quickly paid for the Legos and we walked outside. It was freezing, so I pulled my coat around me tighter, shivering.

Emmett stayed close to me as we walked to my car. I unlocked the door and as I opened it I felt a warm hand touch mine.

He closed his eyes briefly and I watched his Adams apple bob as he swallowed. "Would you like to go for coffee? It may warm you up."

Would I go for coffee? With him? Hell, yes. "Sure, I'd like that," I managed to calmly say, while on the inside I was freaking out. "There's a Starbucks inside the mall." The mall was still open and it was right behind us, so it sounded like the most logical place to go.

"Yeah. I guess we should both drive over. I'll follow you?" His eyebrows rose in question and all I could do was nod.

I parked my car and he pulled in next to me in a Ford F-150, obviously new. I shook my head and wondered if this man was for real or if I was caught in an elaborate dream.

The cold air forced me to realize that I was awake and when Emmett grabbed my hand to lead me inside, I knew for sure I was not sleeping. My heart wouldn't be pounding this furiously if it was a dream.

Emmett insisted on paying and also ordered a couple cookies to nibble on. We sat a table just outside the store inside the mall. It was busy and I liked watching the crazies run by, trying to get to the next big sale.

I settled my gaze on Emmett. There was a nervous flutter in my stomach and I clutched the coffee cup harder as I tried to come up with something witty or intellectual to say. Instead I blurted out something completely stupid. "The mall is really busy."

The corner of Emmett's mouth turned up slightly as he looked around him. "Yeah, Black Friday is usually a day I avoid places like this, but I had to get the doll for my sister and I was afraid if I waited, it would be gone."

"You have a little sister?" That mystery was solved; I had wondered if he had a daughter.

"She's three. She was a… surprise."

Laughing lightly, I took a sip of coffee. "I guess so."

"The Legos, they're for your son?"

"Yeah." I nodded and eyed him apprehensively, waiting for a crack in his perfection. Maybe he didn't like kids. Maybe he wouldn't want to talk to me now.

"What's his name?"

"Trevor. He's six. All he's been asking for is that damn Harry Potter castle and I hadn't been able to find one until tonight."

He smiled and cocked an eyebrow at me, his lips turning up into a sexy smirk. "I think it was Hogwarts... the school, not a castle. Did you see the new movie yet?"

I nodded, gaping at him. He liked Harry Potter?

I was more amazed as he continued to speak. "It veered from the book a bit, but I still really liked it. What did you think?'

The conversation continued as I gushed about my love of all things Potter. He listened and teased, but he obviously had a thing for HP as well.

As we sat quietly talking, I leaned in closer to him and he to me. Soon our arms were touching, then our knees. I dared ask the question that had been hovering in my mind. "How old are you?"

He smiled, his teeth lightly gnawing on his lower lip. "Twenty-five."

I nodded and he watched me closely. "Well?" he questioned, waiting expectantly.

I sighed and quickly spit out, "Thirty-three."

His finger ran down the back of my hand, and I shivered slightly from his touch. "Not much of a difference," he murmured.

He sat quietly, studying my hand and then he lifted those blue eyes to mine and asked, "Is this real or is it all in my head?"*

My eyes met his as I turned my hand over, palm up, my fingers wrapping around his. I swallowed once before answering, "Of course it's all in your head. But what makes you think it's not real?"*

His smile broadened, his dimples deepening and he leaned in, kissing me lightly on my cheek.

He showed up for our first date clutching a bunch of yellow daisies. He took me to a baseball game and fed me hot dogs and nachos. We drank beer and sang Take Me Out to the Ballgame as we stood during the seventh inning stretch. He was baffled over my inexhaustible knowledge of baseball.

The second date he took me roller-blading in the park. I took my own pair and again left Emmett shaking his head as I spun circles around him. "Okay, this is not fair." He skated after me and grabbed me around the waist, pulling me in close. His smile faltered while his eyes focused solely on my lips. I impatiently waited, wanting that kiss, but instead he let me go and zipped away.

He showed up for our next date sporting a suit and tie, and damn did he look handsome. His eyes were set off by the blue shirt he wore. He was coifed and gentlemanly and surprising. He had tickets for a play downtown, but first we had dinner at a posh restaurant I had never been to.

"Have you been to a musical before?" he ventured. His head cocked to the left, his gaze meeting mine.

I had to swallow before answering as my pulse hummed. "Yes. I've seen Phantom of the Opera, Miss Saigon, Les Mis, and Cats, among others of smaller names."

His mouth fell open and a look of disappointment filled is eyes. "Damn it, Rose. Will I ever find something you haven't done or something that you don't know more about than me?"

"I've never been to this restaurant."

He smiled brightly, just like that the disappointment leaving his face. "There is that, at least." He took a drink of wine and smirked, the right corner of his lip lifting slightly. "I promise though, I will find something you've never experienced."

After a month I loved him, after three months he met my son and I loved him more.

Emmett insisted we stay at my place; he didn't want to overwhelm Trevor and he thought it was a good idea to keep him somewhere familiar. Of course he was right. After introductions, we sat down to a feast of spaghetti and meatballs. Trevor sat by me and Emmett sat across from us.

Emmett rolled his meatball around his plate and smiled kindly at Trevor. "Ever heard that song about the poor meatball that got away?"

Trevor shook his head and eyed Emmett skeptically, still unsure what to think.

Emmett began to sing. Right there at the table, loud and off pitch. _"On top of spaghetti… all covered with cheese.." _

Trevor giggled, and watched as Emmett sang, occasionally glancing at me, wide eyed and happy. After finishing the song, Emmett made a big point of twirling as much spaghetti as he could on his fork and shoving it in his mouth. He slurped at the strands left hanging out and if it wasn't so cute, it would've been disgusting. Trevor thought it was hilarious. He and Emmett hit it off rather well after that.

They bonded through dessert, licking their ice cream bowls and seeing who could drink their milk the fastest. I shook my head and smiled; it was wonderful to see Trevor having such a good time with him.

Afterwards they convened to the living room where Trevor brought out his favorite game - Hungry Hippos. A spirited match broke out, but sadly Emmett lost to my son's skills.

As we sat on the couch after Trevor had been tucked into bed, I kissed him lightly on the lips. "You did it."

"What?"

"You gave me something I've never experienced before. Seeing Trevor like that with you… it means a lot to me. He never had…" my voice trailed off and I closed my eyes.

His fingers wiped at the tears that were trailing along my cheek. "He's a great kid, but what do you expect? You _are_ his mother."

That, after three months, 2 weeks and 3 days we finally made love and it was amazing.

"Emmett," I moaned, as he rose above me. His lips left a trail along my neck and across my shoulder and I couldn't take much more.

His eyes met mine, as we came together. There was so much love there, shining down on me, his eyes midnight blue and swirling with passion.

We fell apart in each others arm, quickly loosing ourselves and collapsing together, sweaty and spent.

"I love you ," he whispered for the first time as he pulled me close and wound his legs and arms around me,

After six months I knew I could never let him go. I was completely and utterly in love with him. We spent everyday together and most nights he would stay at my place. Trevor grew to love him and they were a perfect match. Emmett enjoyed spending time with my son and showing him new things, like how to swing a baseball bat.

I thought I knew everything about him, that we had no secrets. I was wrong and shocked to learn there were still aspects of his life that I knew nothing about.

I stopped by his house after work to check on him because he hadn't been feeling well this week. He'd had a fever yesterday and was really tired. I was worried and asked him to see a doctor. Maybe he had the flu and could get some antibiotics to help move it out of his system.

I stopped first to pick up a few things at the store - some Tylenol Cold medicine and chicken noodle soup. I wanted to baby him and help him to get better, but I didn't have much time before Trevor's school let out.

His apartment was dark so I flipped the light on in the kitchen and sat my bags on the counter. The first thing I wanted to do was make sure he was okay so I went into his bedroom to see if he was sleeping. He wasn't there, but there was a small light shining out from under his bathroom door.

As I walked over to it to let him know I was here, I heard a loud heaving noise and a faint call, "Rose…"

Dread swept over me as I tried the knob; it was unlocked and I opened the door to see Emmett sprawled out on the floor, facing the toilet. His head was over the rim and his body was heaving with spasms as he heaved dryly. "Emmett?"

I knelt by him and touched his forehead. He was clammy and his face was drawn and pale. "Call my dad," he managed to get out between the shakes and heaves. I took his cell phone from his pocket and dialed for Carlisle.

"Hello?"

"Carlisle, it's Emmett. He's sick. I thought it may be the flu; he's been feeling badly, but he's not doing so well right now. His skin is clammy and he's really pale..."

Carlisle interjected before I could go any further. "How long has he been sick?"

"A few days with a fever and he's been really tired."

"He didn't go to the doctor?"

"No."

"Damn it, Emmett." Carlisle sounded frustrated and upset and he was scaring me.

"He's in the bathroom, on the floor. I can't move him. Can you please come over?" Emmett groaned lowly and slumped forward, his arms sliding off the toilet. His head landed in my lap. His eyes were shut and his breathing was shallow and fast.

"Carlisle, I think he passed out…" I was starting to get scared. "Emmett? Emmett?" I shook his shoulder trying to revive him. His body started to jerk, his head rose and flopped back down onto my lap. "He's shaking… or seizing… I… oh my God! What do I do?"

"Turn him on his side, carefully, and protect his head. I'm going to call 911 from here, but I'll stay on the phone with you okay?"

I tried to do what he said, but Emmett was too big. I would have to drop his head to get him to move and everything in me told me not to do that. I knew I had read somewhere to protect the head when someone was seizing. "I can't move him." My hand stroked across Emmett's head as I cried. "Emmett?" I tried to rouse him, rubbing his shoulders, speaking his name, but there was nothing. "Carlisle, I can't wake him up. I'm scared. What do I do?" Emmett's body kept jerking uncontrollably and all I could do was sit there and watch. I was helpless.

"Just stay with him. Watch his breathing. If it stops let me know and we'll start CPR."

_CPR? _I stared at his chest, watching it rise and fall as I heard Carlisle speaking on another line. It seemed like hours that I sat there listening to him talk to me calmly, explaining that he had sent an ambulance and it should be there soon. When the knock sounded, I didn't know what to do. No way was I letting go of him.

Somehow the paramedics got in and took over. I was forced to release him as they worked over him. I stood there crying, still holding the phone and asking Carlisle what the hell was going on. What was wrong with my Emmett? I didn't wait for him to answer, my sobs too loud to hear him anyway.

They allowed me to ride with him, and I was at least relieved to see he had stopped convulsing, but he was still out. I sat by him, holding his hand as the paramedics discussed his condition. Words like cancer and leukemia, remission, floated around me and I felt nauseous and terrified. Why were they saying these things? Emmett wasn't sick. He would have told me.

Once at the hospital, I was left in the waiting room as he was rushed into the ER. My unfocused brain suddenly reminded me of a little boy who would be waiting on me to pick him up. Thinking of Trevor I began to sob again, wondering what I would tell him if Emmett…

My breath caught and I suddenly found it hard to breath. My heart felt like it was going to pound out of my chest and I bent forward, gasping, as the tears poured down my face. I had to stand and run to the restroom before I threw up all over the floor.

Both Carlisle and Esme were sitting in the waiting room when I came out. I had so many questions to ask them, but first I called my brother, asking him to pick up Trevor and keep him for the night. He asked me what was wrong, but I was unable to go into any details.

I went right to Carlisle after I hung up, demanding to know just what in the hell was going on. "They said in the ambulance he has leukemia. Is that true?'

Carlisle nodded as he took Esme's hand. I searched both of their faces, confused and stricken. "Why didn't he tell me?" I dropped into the seat by Esme, staring at the floor. I shook my head repeatedly, wanting it to not be true. How could Emmett be this sick? How could I not have known?

"At first he was afraid you would run away. Then as he grew to love you, he didn't want to worry you." Esme's hand stroked along my hair, her touch soft as soft as a feather. "He truly believed he had beat it, that it wouldn't come back. We all wanted to believe that."

He didn't want to worry me? What the hell? My stomach clenched again as another wave of nausea hit me. Esme put her arm around my shoulders, pulling me in close. I slumped against her, frightened and exhausted.

A doctor came out and spoke to Carlisle. I didn't understand half of what they said, only that Emmett hadn't woken up yet and he was being moved to the ICU.

He woke up the next morning. When he saw me he frowned, his eyes full of sadness. "Oh, Rosie, I'm so sorry."

I wanted to yell at him, to curse him for keeping this from me, for letting me find out this way. I wanted to jump into the bed with him and kiss his face until I had covered every spot. Instead, I sat beside him and took his hand.

"I didn't want this for us. I didn't want you to have to deal with this." His eyes shone with anger and weariness. "I just wanted to be normal and love you. To have a family. I guess that was pretty stupid of me."

I shook my head, my eyes filling with tears again. "No… not stupid at all."

He stayed in the hospital for two days before they sent him home. He moved in with his parents so he could be monitored by Carlisle. I wanted him with me, but knew it could be hard on Trevor.

They started the chemo therapy immediately. It made him sick and weak, and I was astonished at the amount of weight he dropped. The big man I knew was wasting away in front of my eyes. His beautiful hair fell out, and the blue of his eyes dulled.

I cried every night in my bed. It was the only time I could give into the weakness. With Emmett I needed to be strong, so he could fight. With Trevor, I couldn't show him how scared I was.

My heart constantly hurt and I was filled with such sorrow and fright. I didn't want to lose him. I loved him so much, that the thought of carrying on without him seemed impossible. So we fought it. Chemo, radiation, drugs. And at every doctors appointment we waited to see what his count was. I Googled Leukemia and alternative treatments, desperate to try anything when conventional medicine seemed to be failing us.

"I'm so tired," he whispered one night as I lay close to him.

My hand ran along his arm, lingering on his fingers. He sighed deeply and took my hand, bringing it up to his mouth for a gentle kiss. "Rose, it's not working."

"Don't say that." My voice trembled and tears filled my eyes.

"I'm so sorry you have to go through this." He wiped away a tear that was trailing down my cheek. "I'm sorry this is hurting you and Trevor. I never would have let him get so close to me if I hadn't thought…"

"Shhhh..." I shook my head and frowned at him. He was sorry for what I had to go through? He was the one who was sick. Yet, he was thinking of me and my son.

"Promise me you'll be okay when I'm gone."

"Don't say that… please."

"I know you'll be strong. You're so amazing, Rose. Look at how well you've done with Trevor by yourself. He's your strength. You'll be strong for him. But I want to know that you'll be okay."

I gasped at the impossibility of his request. Of course I would power through and be there for Trevor. But on the inside? Inside, I was falling apart and I couldn't promise I would be okay because I was sure I wouldn't. Yet, this was what he wanted, what he asked. So I put on a smile and nodded, the yes lodging in my throat.

He sighed, his arms worming their way around me. "I wish I could make love to you. I want to feel you with me." His lips found mine and he kissed me before laying his head on my shoulder.

I fell asleep wrapped in his warm embrace. When I awoke it was dark, and I was cold. My eyes lifted to my man. His eyes were shut and there was a small smile on his lips. I took his hand and held it to my chest as tears leaked form the corners of my eyes.

***Quote from Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows. **

******Crap- this may not be what you were looking for with the Emmett love, but I was feeling a bit angst lately and I knew I needed to write about Emmett so this is what came out. Don't hate me. It's a choose your own ending, you can whip it up and make a HEA if you want or go with the tragedy. What do you think happened? **


	64. Drabble by AccioBourbon

**Penname: AccioBourbon**

**Title: Platonic**

**Rating: M**

_This piece is for the Twilight Twenty-Five from Fall 2009, for the prompt "Platonic." (Yes, one year later and I'm still working on it – hey, only 1 prompt left!) LightStarDusting is the beta with the mostest. _

_This is Emmett and Rosalie from my multi-chapter story "Inconceivable," which is now two chapters from complete.

* * *

_

"I just don't get you guys."

I hear that crap all the time from co-workers, and I even heard it from my family, before they got to know Rosalie. They don't understand how we work or why we're even together.

To most of them, I'm an overgrown Labrador and she's a Standard Poodle.

Rose knows what they all think, the same as I do. My wife likes to tell people that we were friends before we were anything else, as if that makes us sound more solid. Sometimes she even uses the word "platonic." (No, not with a capital "P," because I sure as hell don't want to be anyone's Platonic anything.)

She means the dictionary definition: "love or affection for someone of the opposite sex that is spiritual and lacking in sensual desire."

Now, Rosalie can describe the old _us_, the one from back then, anyway she wants, but she'd better be talking about herself. Because to say that she was ever _my_ platonic friend would be a barefaced lie, and the McCartys were brought up to believe that there is no more grievous sin than lying.

I wanted Rose from the day I caught my first glimpse of her, and I promise you, there was nothing spiritual about it. She was six feet tall in her heels, all legs and hips and a rack that no conservatively tailored suit could possibly hide. My body knew she was a perfect fit, that she would be able to take all of me and have enough left over to render me incoherent and completely spent.

There are truths and there are lies. It's true that we were friends before she let me in. It's true that we learned how to be each other's balance, how to steady one another - as well as knock each other on our asses.

But it would be a lie to say that I ever wanted Rosalie in a way that was anything less than greedy, and absolute, and utterly consuming.


	65. Drabble by Lee723

**30 Days Of Emmett Drabble -**  
  
**Pen name**: Lee723

**Title**: Touched

**Rating**: M

**Pairing**: Emmett & Rosalie

**A/N**: Thanks to KnittingVamp7 for her mad beta skills and AutumnDreamer for looking this over for me.  
Thanks to HMonster4, AccioBourbon and TheHeartOfLife for hosting The 30 Days of Emmett & giving the big dude his chance to shine.

I watched her as she slept next to me on the bed.

Her hair spilled over the white pillow case, her naked back facing me.

So much gold, so much skin. I wanted to touch. I wanted to tease. I wanted to taste. Again.

My hand reached out to feel a strand; it was so soft.

I needed to feel more, I needed to feel her again.

I pulled her body closer to mine, and she made a little contented sigh as her flesh touched mine.

My lips touched the middle of her back, my arms moved to lie on either side of her as I rolled gently onto her.

My chest to her back. Our hands tangled together. She moved her body against mine, welcoming me in.

The only sound that came from her lips was a breathy "Emmett" as I began to move.


	66. Drabble from Cheddah

**Pen Name:** cheddah09

**Title:** Glisten

**Rating**: T

A/N: Thanks to **siouxchef** for fixing up this little ditty. To **AccioBourbon**, **TheHeartofLife,** and **HMonster4**: thanks for putting this Emmfest together, and for the opportunity. And to my loca, **eye_ree,** you hit me like a wrecking ball everyday.

* * *

The sky is clear and heavily dusted with shining stars. Cicadas sing the song of summer nights as branches of aging mesquite trees perform a tribal dance with the light breeze.

They've been sitting in his beat-up old Ford in silence, both sifting through their own thoughts, unsure of what to say. He looks at her. She is glowing... _glowing_ in the moonlight.

He reaches across the bench seat, covered in a worn saddle blanket, and grabs her hand in his. "Come with me?" he asks.

She doesn't speak, but her eyes shine, telling him what he wants to know.


	67. A Series of Drabbles from Daisy3853

**Pen name: **daisy3853

**Rating: **T

**Pairing: **Emmett & Rosalie

**Title: **Thirty Days With Emmett

**Summary: **When Emmett spots her from across the room, she isn't his to watch or to covet. He's a patient man, though, and day by day he'll wait for his chance.

**A/N:** The following is a set of 30 drabbles. Each one is exactly 100 words and covers a different day in the life of Emmett. A million and one hugs to Acciobourbon, Hmonster4, and TheHeartofLife for hosting this little appreciation party. The big guy could always use a little more love. :) Also, thank you so much to americnxidiot for beta'ing this for me. She's fantastic and makes me :').

* * *

**June 18, 2010**

Emmett sits alone, nursing the same beer he's had since he got here. His eyes narrow in distaste at the way it bubbles too warmly on the back of his tongue.

He tilts the bottle toward the bartender and nods. With a fresh beer at his lips, he turns, and that's when he sees her.

She's mile-long legs and curves in all the right places. She's smooth skin and long blonde hair he wants to tangle his hands in.

He chokes on his beer.

Her perfect lips curl in amusement, but her blue eyes burn when she walks away.

**July 5, 2010**

He watches her from across the room, even though she's not his to watch.

Most nights she's here with _him_, and those are the nights Emmett hates. Those are the nights Emmett watches _his_ hand slink from her neck, down the elegant arch of her back, and over the curve of her hip. Like she belongs to him. He watches her smile just for _him_, kiss _his_ neck, and leave with _his_ hands on her skin.

Tonight's different, though. Tonight she's alone.

Still, Emmett doesn't approach.

His pride won't let him – not when tomorrow could be another of _those _nights.

**July 10, 2010**

It's one of _those_ nights, and Emmett can't take his eyes off the couple in the corner.

She's here again with _him. _He's all over her – touching her, kissing her – and she lets him.

She smiles when his hand trails up her thigh. She bites her lip when he kisses her neck. She shivers when his fingers trace her spine.

Emmett drains his bourbon but never looks away. She's torturing him, her eyes never leaving his as she leans close to whisper in _his_ ear. Emmett's eyes harden.

When her confident stare finally falters, he smirks, raising his empty glass.

**July 16, 2010**

Emmett notices everything.

He notices that she never orders for herself when she's here with _him._ She opens her mouth to try, but with his hand on her arm she's silenced. He orders her a cosmopolitan. To the world she might look like that kind of girl – the kind of girl who enjoys pink drinks and expensive gifts.

Emmett knows better.

He's never spoken to her, but he knows she prefers a beer when she's here to relax or two fingers of bourbon, neat, if she's had a bad day – just like him.

Never once has she ordered a cosmopolitan.

**July 24, 2010**

Tonight she's with _him_, and Emmett can't look away. It's the worst kind of torture.

Emmett watches the way she tenses when _he_ rests his hand across the back of her neck. Her shoulders flinch when his thumb trails suggestively over the skin behind her ear; he just laughs.

The life fades out of her eyes when _he_ raises his voice. All she does is nod, submissive. The fire Emmett usually sees in her – that spark of strength he admires – has burned out.

Emmett knows who to blame. His fingers tighten around his glass, itching for something – someone – to break.

**August 21, 2010**

Tonight's the first time Emmett has seen her in almost a month. She's alone, and he's halfway out of his chair before he can stop himself.

She doesn't look quite right. She looks tired, like she hasn't had a good night's sleep in way too long. Emmett wonders if it's work, or family, or _him. _He wonders if she's _alone_ alone or just alone tonight.

He wonders if he's ever going to speak to her, or if they're doomed to bad timing.

She eyes him warily when he approaches to order a new drink.

He grins, and she turns away.

**August 23, 2010**

She's alone again.

She looks relaxed, but somehow she has this aura – this force that warns that if you approach, you'll regret it. If you touch, you'll get burned.

Emmett remembers that the most exotic animals are sometimes the most venomous. Nature's own warning: don't eat me. He stifles a chuckle, knowing that one taste of her would be worth it.

He wonders if he could do it – if he could spend just one night with his hands tangled in that hair, his fingers digging into those hips, his lips tasting that skin – and then walk away.

Not a chance.

**August 27, 2010**

Tonight when he sees her, he's ready.

He sits at a table in the far corner, and the shadows and bodies hide him from her line of sight. He notices her looking for something, someone. He lets himself believe it's him.

She's stoic in her disappointment.

When she sits the bar, he stands. His beyond-tall frame is imposing, and his walk is a slow, tangibly confident swagger; people naturally clear his path.

He takes a seat next to her at the bar, and he watches the tension seep into her posture.

They drink, silently, inches away but miles apart.

**September 4, 2010**

This time when he slides onto the stool next to her, her shoulders don't tense. She doesn't acknowledge him – not with a turn of her head or a single spoken word – but she doesn't turn away, either.

He counts it as a small victory.

He notices that tonight she's drinking Blue Moon on tap instead of Newcastle. He wonders which is really her favorite, if she has one.

He orders a Newcastle, and he's rewarded by her perfect lips turning up into a half-smile.

It's gone as soon as she lets it slip, but he caught it.

Another victory.

**September 10, 2010**

Tonight he hears her voice for the first time.

It doesn't sound like bells or angels singing or any of that bullshit. It sounds like sex and a smooth sip of bourbon – and coming home.

"I'll have a double of Maker's, neat."

"Bad day?" Emmett asks.

"The worst. How'd you know?"

He raises his glass; it's almost empty now, but a half-hour ago it was three fingers of amber-colored stress relief in a glass.

"Looks like we've had the same kind of day," she says.

They sip in silence, and the bourbon burns in just the right way.

**September 13, 2010**

Tonight she tells him her name.

He chuckles, and she narrows her eyes, ready to fight.

"Something funny?"

"No, no. Just thinking."

"_Thinking, _huh?"She arches a derisive eyebrow; her tone suggests _thinking_ isn't common for Emmett.

"I was _thinking_ you must hear all the worst lines with a name like that."

She's surprised. He's right, of course. She recovers quickly. "I'm sure I've heard whatever you've got, but go ahead and give it your best shot."

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Rose."

He smiles as he walks away, certain he sees fire in those ice-blue eyes.

**September 18, 2010**

Tonight he catches Rose watching him.

She's with a friend – some petite brunette – but her eyes keep finding Emmett. He watches the way she nods, responding to her friend at appropriate intervals. He laughs when said friend waves a hand in front of Rose's face to regain her attention.

Rose hears him. She narrows her eyes and then turns back to the brunette, determined not to spare him another glance.

Sometimes he almost thinks he feels her eyes on him, but he doesn't catch her again.

He misses the way her eyes follow him when he walks out the door.

**September 20, 2010**

She's waiting for him, alone, with a bottle of beer for each of them. She methodically peels the label off hers and is too distracted to notice his approach.

Emmett grins like the devil, sneaking up behind her until he can speak directly into her ear, his voice low and rough.

"Good evening, Rose."

He's not expecting her reaction. First an elbow to the gut, then he's flat on his back. He sees the absolute terror in her eyes_._

"Rose, I'm…"

His apology trails behind her as she stalks out of the bar.

"I'm sorry," she whispers to no one.

**October 11, 2010**

After three weeks, she still hasn't come back to their bar.

He's there each night, alone. Waiting.

He drinks alone. He saves her seat at the bar for no one. He turns away anyone who approaches without a second thought.

His guilt eats him alive, and he hopes for another chance. He doesn't understand what happened, but he understands that she's hurt. That _someone_ hurt her. Someone Emmett would hurt if he could.

He needs her to know he would never hurt her. He was raised to treat women in a certain manner.

He wants the chance to show her.

**October 14, 2010**

It's been twenty-four days, and he's tired of waiting.

Waiting for her to be alone. For her to let him speak. For her to speak to him. Waiting to break through these walls she's built around herself.

He's no quitter – just the idea of walking away leaves a bitter aftertaste. He washes it down with one last sip.

"Emmett?"

He doesn't answer, worried it's just the bourbon talking.

"My name is Rosalie Lillian Hale, and you're going to have to be patient with me."

She offers her hand, and he takes it.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

**October 22, 2010**

Tonight she's waiting for him, just like that night when it all went to hell. She orders a beer for each of them, then on second thought a double as well – just in case he's having a bad day.

He clears his throat as he approaches so she's not startled.

She looks up, and it almost seems like she's nervous. Almost.

He gives her his best dimpled grin; she doesn't swoon like most women would, but he swears her cheeks blush just a little bit.

That and the soft smile on her lips make tonight the best night so far.

**October 29, 2010**

"So, big guy, what do you do?"

"I work… I run with my dog… I read. Sometimes I sit in this dump just so I can talk to you."

"Ha ha," she deadpans. "So charming."

"You meant where do I work."

"Obviously."

"Hate to break it to you, but nothing's obvious with you." His grin is all warmth and reassurance, because he knows her instinct is to take that the wrong way. "I'm a pediatrician."

"You like kids?"

"I love kids. That's my dirty little secret. What's yours?"

"I…" She hesitates when he meets her eye. "I love your smile."

**November 1, 2010**

Tonight Emmett's behind the bar, and Rose is all smiles. Turns out no one can say no to Mr. McCarty – not even the bartender.

"Come on, Rosie. What'll it be?"

"Anything but a cosmo."

Emmett's smile falters; he knows who she's thinking of.

He leans in, reaching across the bar so slowly, so carefully, until he's touching her. His finger trails down her cheek, under her chin, and then he's pulling her a little closer.

Her eyes want to close but they don't. It's too intense. Too scary. Too wonderful.

"I won't hurt you like he did."

"I know," she whispers.

**November 5, 2010**

Rose can't take her eyes off the class ring Emmett's spinning. The dim lights overhead catch on the metal as it turns, casting tiny reflections on the gleaming wood of the bar.

He looks like a child, entirely content with his quiet game. The smallest smile curls his lips, and she wants to kiss them. His fingers are strong, but careful and precise. She wants those fingers on her. She watches the way the muscles in his forearms flex and relax, and she wants to drag her fingers over them.

She's blushing when he looks up, and he grins, knowing.

**November 9, 2010**

She's peeling the label off her beer again, instead of talking. They've been nearly silent for the last half-hour.

He leans in to speak into her ear, low and rough. "You know, some people say that's a sign of sexual frustration."

"You know, some people would tell you that's none of your business," she replies, trying to sound nonchalant but failing. Her ears are traitors and he notices their blush.

"What if I want to make it my business?" His grin is cocky and teasing.

"What if I'm not open for business?"

"Some day, sweetheart. I promise you that."

**November 13, 2010**

They're sitting so close that no one can hear their whispered words over the low hum of the bar.

"You look nice tonight," he murmurs.

"You say that every night."

"Maybe it's true every night."

"Maybe you need a new line." Her smile turns serious. "So, when are you going to man up and ask me to dinner?"

"Would you like to go to dinner?" He's all arrogant confidence and that cheeky grin.

"No, but thanks for finally asking."

She kisses his left dimple, and he's still at a loss for words as he watches her walk out the door.

**November 19, 2010**

"Entertain me," she says, a challenge.

He doesn't think long before he asks, "Why is six scared of seven?"

"I have no idea."

"Because seven ate nine."

She's silent, and he's about to take it back when a slow smile creeps across her face. It starts at the corner of her mouth, lifting it just the slightest bit. Then he sees it in her eyes, in the way the edges crinkle. When she snorts, all bets are off. She claps her hand over her mouth to stifle it, and his guffaw echos throughout the bar.

He loves hearing her laugh.

**November 27, 2010**

"What'd he do to you?"

"It doesn't matter, Emmett."

"It matters to me."

"He just… he broke me. I can't go through that again."

"Rosie…" He sighs. "You gotta know I'm not him."

"What do you want?"

"I want to see that fire in your eyes when you think I'm wrong. I want you to call me on my bullshit. I want to fight with you in the good ways and make up with you in the best ways. I want _you_."

"I think I want you, too."

He kisses her wrist.

"When you're ready. I'll wait until you're ready."

**December 2, 2010**

"What do you call that color? Salmon?"

"I think they call it light pink."

"Really, Emmett?"

"Hey, it takes a secure man to wear pink."

"Uh huh."

"I'm a secure man."

"Okay."

"Secure in my masculinity."

"Sure."

"I'm very masculine."

"So very."

"You're… mocking me, aren't you?"

"Definitely."

He frowns at his tie, pulling it slowly between his first and middle fingers. She watches, enraptured.

"The kids like them," he mumbles.

"Excuse me?"

"The kids. Funny ties get them talking."

"Huh."

"This one has sharks on it. Kids like sharks."

"They do?"

"Why else would I wear a pink tie?"

**December 4, 2010**

"He used to buy me roses," she says, out of nowhere. "He would say, 'roses for my loveliest Rose,' like he was so clever or something. Like he was the first guy who ever thought of it."

"You don't seem like a rose kind of girl."

"I fucking _hate_ roses."

He laughs until he can't breathe. "You would."

"They're unoriginal."

"They have thorns."

"So do I," she whispers.

He leans in until he's so close _she_ can't breathe.

"I like you thorny." His voice is rough; she feels the words on her neck and over her skin, the sweetest shiver.

**December 7, 2010**

She hasn't played quarters since before she was legal to drink, but she hasn't laughed this hard in even longer.

"Emmett! You're cheating."

He laughs, and it's deep and clear and it echoes somewhere inside her.

"How can I possibly cheat? You bounce the quarters. They go in or they don't."

"I don't know how you're doing it, but you're cheating."

She tries again, and he watches her – the way her brow crinkles in concentration and the hint of her tongue that sticks out, teasing him.

She finally scores, and he swears her smile is the brightest he's ever seen.

**December 9, 2010**

She's still breathless and flushed when she asks, "Are you ever going to ask me out?"

His arms around her loosen, like he's about to pull away. He smiles – the one that makes her wonder how a man could ever be such a child at heart – then he spins her twice and pulls her close again.

"You told me to be patient."

"I'm tired of being patient."

"I'll ask you when it's right."

"How will I know when it's right?" she whispers, her head against his chest.

"You won't have to ask."

A slow one comes on, and they sway.

**December 13, 2010**

There's a storm raging outside, and thunder and lighting crash as Emmett walks in the door.

He's dripping water in the entry way, and Rosalie fights a grin as she watches him. He runs his hands through his hair, laughing as he shakes off the rain. His cheeks are a ruddy red from the cold; she thinks he's beautiful.

He smiles as he walks toward her, but this is much more than a smile. His whole face, his whole body – everything in Emmett smiles. He exudes a carefree confidence with every step he takes toward her.

Now she's smiling, too.

**December 17, 2010**

Tonight he's nervous. Emmett's never nervous.

When she walks in, the air leaves the room. He's suffocating. She's wearing this tight black dress, and all he can think is _Goddamn_.

But then her eyes find his from across the room, and he can breathe again. She's smiling as she walks toward him – that smile he used to only see when she let it slip.

"I brought you flowers," he says.

"They're not roses." She's still smiling.

"I thought you'd appreciate something a little… different."

"Different sounds good."

"How does dinner sound?"

"Dinner sounds… perfect, actually."

And now they're both smiling.

**December 18, 2010**

He gave her the loveliest orchids and then asked her to dinner. She said, "Perfect."

Now they're sitting in this empty restaurant, and the staff is not so subtly stacking chairs on top of tables and turning out lights. He laughs, deep and carefree, and she pulls him out the door and to his car.

It's just after midnight. The sky is so bright and so clear, and she can see every star.

He leans in to kiss her – finally kiss her. His lips are soft and strong, and he tastes like the chocolate bread pudding they shared for dessert.


	68. One Shot by Rowan Moon and winterstale

**Title**: _Fairy Tales and Flaming Eyebrows_

**Summary**: Forty year-old Emmett McCarty met thirty-eight year old Siobhan Appling and her son, Connor, at his daughter's pre-school just over six weeks ago and they've been getting quite cozy since. On a typical suburban evening, the two families join for sweetcorn and tomato pizza, a bedtime story, and a little warrior-goddess roleplay.

**Pen names:** _Rowan Moon and winterstale_

**Primary Players**: _Emmett/Siobhan_

**Rating**: _M_

**Beta'd by:** _Viola Cornuta_

**Disclaimer**: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization.

A/N – Siobhan just got a wonderful and sincerely appreciated shout-out from the Twilight Original Character awards, taking runner-up in the In Name Only category for development of minor canon characters. http:/originalcharacterawards(dot)blogspot(dot)com/

If you're interested in Emmett and Siv's on-going story, please check out _Fire and Ice: Buzzblocked_ and a collab with Miss Viola Cornuta, _ Fire Island and Melting Ice_, which are both housed on winterstale's profile page at this address: http:/www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/u/2077303/winterstale.

Thanks once again to the lovelies of the Em Pack for making this challenge happen and to so many fantastic writers who've given the big dimpled one his rightful place in his very own size 3x tall spotlight.

.~*~.

Meg's little legs bounded up the walkway in front of me, racing to ring the bell, her blond curls shivering and bouncing along with the rest of her. I was just as excited as she was but left the bouncing and bounding to my five year old daughter, who was lit up and beaming brighter than the top of a lighthouse about her sleepover.

"Daddy, come _on_!" Meggie tapped her foot impatiently,impatiently; looking for all the world like another blonde I knew who didn't count patience as one of her finer attributes. "Miss 'Bonnie and Connor are waiting for us!"

Being the good bellhop Daddy I am, I followed behind carrying her overnight bag, at least seven damn sparkly fairy dolls, a stuffed giraffe named Fred, and a brand-new Tinkerbell sleeping bag. Tomorrow I had to be in court downtown at eight, which meant leaving the house to fight traffic at seven, easy, so Meg was about to have her first solo sleepover with her best friend from pre-school, Connor Appling. I wasn't too worried about the boy-girl make-up of the evening; after all, they were both five and they were in the care of Connor's mom, Siobhan.

My hot, redheaded, dirty-mouthed Irish girlfriend, Siobhan.

Meggie leaned on the bell heavily, but the door immediately swung open - revealing Connor, who was sporting a grin as wide as my little girl's. A whoosh of vanilla-scented warm air rushed over me, making me drool like Pavlov's dog. I peered down the hallway looking for my big girl, and suddenly my heart was pounding and I was sucking wind, just knowing she was near. The comforting scent of her home and thoughts of Siobhan, a soft, plush Earth mother I'd literally bumped into at Meggie's pre-school just over a month ago, made me feel like someone had dipped me in warm caramel and fed me a good three fingers of Scotch. It hit me again, and hard; I was a goner for Siv and damn happy to be in love again at forty years old.

"'Allo Meggie!" Connor crushed Meggie into a tight bear hug, toppling them over in the entry way in a fit of giggles. My throat clenched a little bit at the sight of Meg so happy to see her friend. She missed her older brother Henry so much, but Connor seemed to fill in the hole her brother's absence left.

I sat Meggie's gear down on the hall floor and reached down to separate the tumbling puppies before someone, likely Connor, who was too gentle with Meg for his own safety, got hurt. Offering my hand to Siv's little boy, I attempted to pull him out of reach from the tow-headed tornado that was my daughter.

"Look out, buddy, she's got a wicked choke hold." Meggie growled playfully, tightening her half-Nelson around the little guy as he scrambled to put his little paw in my big one.

"Halp, Mr. Memmet, she's starkers!"

"Tell me about it." I laughed, ruffling Connor's blond head. "Hey, speaking of starkers... where's your Mo- uh I mean... Mummy?"

"Mummy's in the loo," Con announced like he was giving tomorrow's weather report. "She's got bad wind again."

I snorted a laugh but not quick enough to miss the sound of Siv's voice echoing down the hall, accompanied by the flush of a toilet.

"Con! _For fec-… _erm… I'll be right there, Em!"

I settled the kids into the kitchen and called in a pizza order while Siv took care of business. Just as I replaced the phone in its holder, a pair of succulent pale arms snaked around my waist.

_Mmmmm… my girl._

"Sorry, darling. How was your afternoon?"

"Hey, sweetheart." I couldn't help but chuckle a bit at her as I turned around to her. "Wind?"

"Oh shut it, you. I' was your bright idea altogether to 'ave a curry for lunch, wasn't it?"

"I liked my dessert better anyway," I said as I tipped her chin toward me and took her bottom lip between mine. Her hands slid from my waist and curled around my shoulders, pulling all of me against her.

"I enjoyed mine as well," she mumbled between little kisses. " 'S brilliant to have such a lovely delivery boy." Her thigh slid around mine, curving against me as she bit at my neck. "I wish y' dinn't have to go earlier, Em. I've thought about y' all afternoon."

"You naughty girl, can't get enough, huh?"

"Oof..." she growled against my neck. "I dunno what's going on wi' me, but I'm gaspin' for it again, Em."

I gave that round ass a little swat and snickered a bit as she jumped.

"It's me."

"Cocky oik."

I checked around the corner to be sure I was safe and then put her hand on the cock in question.

"Stop, y'eejit, the babbies..." she sighed and buried her face in the collar of my dress shirt. "Oh… Em…"

I wound my hand through the thick tangle of curling hair at the back of her neck and pulled it free. Another wave of her vanilla scent floated up to me, and I groaned, hopefully not so loud the kids could hear me but clear enough to get my point across to the six feet of Irish red dragging her tongue across my collarbone. Siobhan and I had turned each other into hounding teenagers living in middle-aged bodies; after my divorce and a two-year dry spell I wasn't sure I'd ever get enough of her.

"Daddy?"

_And that was that. _

Siv pulled away with another sigh and looked up at me with that half-asleep, dreamy, just between us look that almost knocked the wind out of me every time I saw it. She blinked, shook her head, and gave me a quick peck on the lips. As she turned her blue eyes south a wide grin spread over her face.

"I'll see t' them. Have a moment t' ye'self, darling." She sauntered out, winding that wild-assed red hair of hers around one of the thousand paintbrushes she seemed to keep all over her house.

I let out a big breath, scrubbed at the bristles on my chin, and went over to the fridge, hoping to find a bottle of the Guinness she kept cold just for me.

"Em, could you take a packet of sweetcorn from the deep-freeze?"

"Yep, got it." I called back as I cracked open the cold bottle of stout. Connor had introduced Meg to his own brand of pizza on the first night we all had dinner and watched Toy Story – _what else? _– together. The kid ate corn on baked potatoes and pizza and pretty much at every meal but breakfast. Now Meggie insisted on the same.

'Sweetcorn and to-maahto piz-her' as Con called it, actually wasn't bad.

All of these little things about Siobhan and Connor were weaving their way into mine and Meg's life so easily. We all just fit together, made sense. It was still early in my relationship with Siv, but it felt relaxed and natural, even from the first night. We'd recovered quickly from a Valentine's Day first date that started great and ended with a waiter wearing a $15 desert and my girl in tears. Lucky for me we gave it another shot that night and ended it right, cocooned in her bed and wrapped around each other.

Siobhan had a way of taking the good with the bad, usually making some half-intelligible Irish comment about it at the same time that got me remembering I trusted myself once and could do it again. I had gone under, hard and fast, as a kid for my ex-wife Rose, and that ride was full of highs and lows, with some pretty sharp crashes thrown in for the drama she loved. I'd fallen just as quickly for Siv, but this time I kept finding nothing but soft places to land, even as we got deeper into each other.

The microwave beeped, and I yanked the steaming package from the glass tray, whistling and jamming the cold bottle of Guinness against my singed fingers just as Siv came back into the kitchen holding two pizza boxes high over two pairs of grabbing little hands.

"Right, the pizza's arrived," she said as she sat them down on the counter beside me. "Meggie and Connor, off w' you and wash up before your tea."

Meg's eyebrows scrunched over her eyes, threatening thunder.

"I don't want tea, I want pizza!"

Connor, bless the kid, herded Meg off toward the downstairs bathroom trying to explain that 'tea' was 'dinner', and they'd be drinking strawberry-kiwi juice, just like she liked.

"You don't have to get special things for her, she'll drink apple juice," I said as I turned to Siobhan.. "Con drinks it, and once – hey… babe… you okay?"

She was leaning against the counter, face screwed tight and her hand pressed against her mouth. Her eyes opened and twinkled at me as she raised a couple of fingers toward me and shook her head.

"Siv?" I made a quick move to her. She looked even paler than usual. In the knee-jerk reaction of a parent, I felt her forehead and cheek for a sign of fever, finding clammy and cool, not hot. On closer inspection, I could see her face was shiny with a light skim of sweat.

"'Tis nothing, Em," she smiled up at me and gave my palm a quick kiss as she lifted it from her cheek. "Been feeling a bit off the past couple of days. It's nothing, I'm sure. Just a moment ago I could've et the lamb of Jesus through the rungs of a chair, and now I can't be asked. Think I'll give pizza a miss." She started toward the fridge, and I stepped in her way, getting a ruddy eyebrow arching in my direction.

_Heh. Try moving me out of your way, woman._

"Go sit – ah… ah," I scolded her as she started to argue. "No, I got this. Go sit with the kids."

"But, Em… Con's -"

"Siobhan, I can put corn on a pizza. Go." I turned her toward the small alcove where her round table sat and nudged her toward it.

"Obstinate bugger," she muttered under her breath.

"Heard that," I called as I rummaged through the dishwasher for the kids' Buzz and Tink plates.

_Buzz again. I gotta expand that boy's horizons…_

As I made the kids' plates – Meggie's slice covered with enough corn to let her know it was there but in perfect ratio to the pepperoni and tomatoes, Con's covered so nothing showed_ but_ corn – I heard their laughter mingling with Siobhan's. It sounded good, normal, relaxed.

_Happy._

It felt like home.

The kids were finishing their dessert when Meg rolled out her list of requests – _demands_ – while we were still seated at Siobhan's round dinner table.

"Daaaaaddy! I _need _TINKERBELL!" Meggie whined, folding her little arms across her chest and doing a fair imitation of her mother, reminding me that, by the time Meg hit fifteen, I could very well be chewing 'nerve pills' and crocheting like my Great Aunt Veda.

"Nunk, you said Tink wanted to stay home tonight with Daddy, that's why you have Fred," I replied cautiously, wincing as Connor slid from his chair and scurried toward the living room. This was dangerous territory: a four-alarm tantrum was a very definite possibility and needed to be handled just so, or it would end in tears and me taking Meggie home. That was not an option. I lglanced longingly at the couch in Siv's living room, and then down at the sweet but threatening face of my five-year-old daughter daughter.

"Tinkerbell!"

_Damn_.

I stifled a groan as Siv busied herself with something useless, avoiding Meg's gaze.

"I WANT TINK!"

"Okay, that's enough, Megan Mary," I growled. As pissed as I was at her little act, which I was pretty sure she'd put on for Siv and Con's benefit, the first thing I saw was my baby Meggie, the little girl bits of pale blond hair falling around her head and her skin so pale it almost looked like a fairy's wing. My throat lumped up for half a second until I saw the bottom lip jutting out and a Class 5 scowl creeping over her face. After two years as Meg's primary parent and despite assurance from my Mom, my law partner's wife Alice, and even Rose, I still occasionally wondered how I was going to do this on my own. No mulligans when it comes to kids, and it was now my do-over shot as this situation needed to be handled pronto. Time to bring out Stern Daddy - which increased our chances of going home by 73%. Not good odds.

As I started to lay down the law, my reinforcements arrived in the unlikely form of a five year old boy. Walking up to Meggie as if he was approaching a pissed and primed rattlesnake, Connor held up his Buzz Lightyear doll to my distraught daughter. I caught Siobhan, still sitting across the table, smiling at her son with so much love it made my heart skip a beat. After fourteen years of someone so guarded with her affections, these little displays still made me stare just a bit; Siv simply bubbled over with warmth.

"That's awful nice of you buddy, but I don't think Buzz can help this situation." I grinned down at gentle little Connor, a little embarrassed over Meg's current stunt. "Might want to let him sit this round out, okay?"

_Or your buddy Buzz is going to get launched back to Star Command, little man._

"Careful, Con, the McCartys aren't big fans of Buzz, they may put him out for the night."

"I come in peace," the Space Ranger himself added as Con stuffed him under his chair. A soft snicker from Siv's direction snapped my attention back to her, and I grinned like fool, and not caring either, remembering our first Saturday night together and just _what, or really, who _came after we put Buzz out for the night. I widened my eyes and shot her the innocent dimples/wink combo. Since Siv had been around for the past month and a half, I'd found the need to specialize a bit:_ Innocent dimples. 'Damn cheeky article' dimples. 'Get over here now, woman' dimples._

"Daaaaaa-dyyy! This is seewious, stop being Prince Charming to Miss 'Bon!" Hands on hips, Meggie pulled out the big cannon in her arsenal - the foot stomp. Siv wasn't helping matters by trying to stifle her laughter over my daughter's professional demonstration on how to go from sweet to petulant in less than five seconds.

"Emmett, would you like another cookie?" _ Bless this woman. Chocolate soothed the savage beast in my family, regardless of how big or small the beast in question was._

"Thanks, Siobhan, I'd love one. How 'bout you, Meg? Another one of Miss Siobhan's cookies?"

Meg grabbed a cookie at inhuman speed and munched happily, forgetting all about Tink. Hopefully for the duration of the evening. Siv winked slightly at me, and I lifted my eyebrows in response.

_Anything you want, woman… anything._

Her eyebrows shot up in response as though she'd read my mind, and she chuckled a little as she nibbled at her cookie. Connor scooted his chair close to his mother and tucked himself against her, getting a kiss on the head and another oafmeel-chocolate chip cookie of his own.

"Miss Bonnie, I like your oafmeel cookies with chocolate chips, but Daddy says I don't have to eat oafmeel tomorrow since I'm spending the night with Connor, and I want pancakes because they're my favorite, and Daddy never makes pancakes since he made the ones he made me catch on fire."

"Oh dear," Siv giggled behind her hand, her head shaking at me and making those red curls of hers bounce around her eyes. "Is Daddy not handy with cookery, Meggie?" 

Meggie looked up at Siv, almost convincing even me she was completely innocent. "No ma'am, Miss 'bon. Daddy din't call it cookery, he called it _fuckery_." 

Siv's eyes shot to me, wide as could be, but still barely keeping in that laugh of hers.

"Oh, really?"

"Hey, Meg, let's forget about that word. It's a really stupid word, doesn't mean anything at all. I just said it because I lost my - um... anyway, let's get the sleeping bags..." I clapped my hands, hopefully signaling to the kids that this line of discussion, not to mention my cooking fuckery, were closed subjects.

"And what did y' lose, then, Emmett?" Siv asked oh-so-politely, as she gathered paper plates and juice boxes, her smile like something you'd indulge a five-year-old with. 

"An eyebrow."

"Sorry, darling, did y' say an _eyebrow_?"

"Yes," I grumbled. 

"He looked silly," Meggie cackled. Connor picked up the rear, adding his little seal-laugh on top of Meg's rat-a-tat-tat snorting giggle. 

"Indeed." Siv pushed my hair off my eyebrow and touched it with her thumb. "He looks arigh t' me. I think y've survived such a grievous injury."

"My daddy is the mansome-nest Daddy, Miss Siv." 

Siv brushed her thumb over my eyebrow along with a smile that shot fireworks from my head to my toes and _everywhere_ in between. She looked like herself again, pink cheeks and all, no more of that greenish and sweaty pallor she'd had in the kitchen. I risked a little rumble in my chest, just loud enough for her to hear. 

"Too right, Meggie," she purred through her own. "Spot on."

I felt a tug at my pants leg, but not the one I was afraid of. Connor was looking up at me with a sheepish little grin, holding a board game.

"Mr. Memmett, would you like to see my new game? It's called Chutes and Ladders, it's like Snakes and Ladders only it is with chutes, not snakes, and it's ever so much fun and there's numbers and chutes. And ladders."

The little guy's face looked so hopeful and proud, I couldn't help but chuckle and scoop him up, game and all. It was good to hold a little boy again, even if it did made me miss Hen a bit, but I was also a little relieved when Con giggled and wrapped his pudgy little arm around my neck. The dreamy, almost unbelievably intelligent boy had been steadily working his way into my heart since Siv and I had gotten together.

I'd not really been physical with Con before, just trying to get our bearings with each other, even though he seemed to like me and didn't have a problem with his mother and me being together. But I also knew the sight of someone starving for affection. Even with the abundant love Siv poured on Con, his relationship with his father was hard for the boy. Alistair was a real intellectual, completely reserved, and a total contrast to Siobhan. I'd not go down the road of too many questions about how that marriage happened, knowing I'd been the source of a few speculative conversations about my own ex and me.

Meggie spied Con with me as she rounded the corner, and her eyes narrowed in time with her arms crossing her chest. She glared at the Chutes and Ladders box, and I could see the new mouthy little demand coming together in her head.

This was going to stop. _Now._

"Why don't you set up the game, Con, alright? I'm gonna get something from my Jeep, and I need Meg's help. Mo –er" -_damn, was I ever going to get that right?_ - "Mummy's in the kitchen, okay?"

"Yes, sir, Mr. Memmett," he answered, serious again and looking a little hurt that I'd put him down. I crouched beside him, ignoring the snap, crackle, pop in my knee, and elbowed him gently.

"Hey, buddy, will you pick out my guy?"

"Yes, sir. I'll make you the boy with brown hair because your hair is mos'ly black but has those bits of silver in it, but that's close enough, and I'll be the boy with the fair hair and Mummy's token has red hair just like 'er, and Meggie… oh…" He looked down a minute and gnawed his lip, thinking it through just like I'd watched Siv do. Suddenly his eyes lit up and he grinned wide and happy again. _Ah… relief_. "I'll make one with fair hair for Meggie as wew-wl. Oof… I mean _as well,"_ he repeated carefully.

"That sounds good, buddy." I mussed his hair and stood, groaning softly at my protesting joints. "Be right back, okay, man?"

"A'wright… I mean… alright!" He scrambled up in a chair and started unpacking his game.

"Megan Mary, now." I said to Grouchella, pointing to the front door.

Once I had her seated on the spare tire on the back of my Jeep and holding her at eye-level, we started our staring contest. Lasted close to fifteen seconds before she started giggling; The cross-eyed, drunk-grinning, and tongue-lolling may have helped but a man's got to use his arsenal as he sees fit.

"Daddy, you're weird!"

"Yeah, probably. But you love me, right?"

"Yeah," she agreed and patted the top of my head, earning herself an impression of a bulldog with asthma… and crossed eyes. The crossed eyes always got Meg.

"Well, Nunk, I know you love me. And you know I love you."

At five she already could blink and look at me like I was stating the obvious… or in need of medication.

_Great Aunt Veda smiled down on us from her heavenly yarn store._

"The reason we know that is because we treat each other carefully, right?"

"Yeah, like you always say that I should be nice and share, and patient when you can't put the TV on _Gullah Gullah_ _Island_ but always do real quick anyway, and not be Grumpella when I don't get chocolate, and not hide my oafmeel in my coat pockets anymore because it made my Tink hoodie smell yucky."

_Not bad for five. She may have listened. Huh._

"Nunk, you need to treat Con more carefully, too."

Her little eyes rolled, and she squirmed underneath my arms. I pushed back, caught her attention with the 'Daddy means business' non-dimpled stare.

"Daddy, Connor wants me to always pick. It makes him happy to make me happy."

"No, dollbaby. Not always;, not really. Connor is a nice guy, right? He's your friend, and friends want their friends to be happy, but Meg, that goes both ways."

I had her now. She looked right into my eyes, blinking, and getting it. I knew it in my bones, the kid was hearing me.

"Sometimes nice guys try so hard to make everyone else happy they don't notice nobody's giving anything special to them. And that's not good. Everyone deserves to know they're special to the people who matter most to them, 'cause it makes people sad when they think their feelings don't matter to the people they care about."

"Uh-huh, Daddy," Meg whispered, her eyes getting bigger. "So we should play Chutes and Ladders?"

"Yeah, and you probably need to let Miss Siobhan know how glad you are she bought Strawberry-Kiwi juice just for you, huh?"

"And thank Connor for his socks because he won't be a very happy husband if I don't thank him for wanting to keep my feet warm when we go to the moon?" She pointed down to her feet covered in a huge pair of Lightning McQueen socks, swallowing them from her toes all the way past her ankles.

I winced and forced myself to ignore the 'husband' part.

"Yeah, especially if he gave you those cool socks, Nunk."

"Can we go inside now?"

"Sure, dollbaby." I swung her from the tire to my shoulders, whining and snorting and she grabbed fistfuls of my hair, giggling 'giggy-up' all the way to the front door. I was happy to play horsey for my little girl if she didn't act like a spoiled horse's ass.

" Miss Bonnie, are there any bedtime stories with a princess and for girls – uh… I mean all of us?" Meggie asked as she eyed me hopefully, earning a wink and nod in approval.

Connor's face lit up and his little finger pointed up to the sky, completing his cute little _'Eureka!'_ moment, just like the professor I had a suspicion he was intended to be. He dashed out of the room without a word.

He came back lugging a large black paperback with pale hands holding a red apple on the cover.

"This is Mummy's bedtime story."

"Oh yeah! Daddy, this one! It's about a boy with messy copper hair and flossy eyes!"

"Flossy? What?" She sounded like the more embarrassing parts in one of those horny pirate books my mom hid in the kitchen cabinets behind her stash of Little Debbie cakes. Not that_ I_ read them or anything – I just wanted a damn Fudge Round.

"Where did you hear about copper hair and _mossy_ eyes, Meg?"

"Connor read it to me."

_Damn genius kid reading at five._

"Oh my… Bride of…" Siv sputtered, reaching for the book, her cheeks a nice flaming pink. 

I opened it up, flipping though the pages. 

"Golden... glorious... sculpted... _dazzling_." I looked at Siv, then back to the cover again and couldn't help the laughing. "Babe, what is this - a book about a Vegas showgirl?" 

She flushed brighter crimson and reached for the book, but I held it above my head. The kids seemed to sense a game afoot and tackled Siv, dragging her down into a dogpile.

"Oy, that's not on, you little demons!" Connor and Meg both delivered double zirbits on Siv's exposed belly, getting a nice squeal out of her. "Em, please...," she whined as she laughed along with the kids. I smirked down at her; relishing my victory and happy to tease her some more, I licked my index finger dramatically and skimmed to find a passage to read.

"Babe, really?" I gasped with exaggerated horror. " _'His beauty stunned my mind?'_ " I turned the book over in my hands. "This is about that vampire man-boy who shines, isn't it?" I could barely suppress a snort of laughter at her scowl. 

" 'E sparkles, thank you," she replied in a pretty good imitation of an elderly schoolteacher and yanked the book from my hands. "Not this, Con. 'Tis a Mummy book." 

" 'Tis a fourteen year old teenybopper book," I muttered under my breath. "Hey, you two, how about this? I've got a story about another guy: a mighty warrior!" 

"Make one up, Daddy, like Miss Rowan does at nappy-nap time. And make it a princess story!" 

"Why not a story about both... a warrior and a princess?" Siv interjected. I mouthed a silent thank you in her direction.

Connor lit up like a Christmas tree. Meggie, seeing this was a profitable compromise as her best friend could now enjoy the story too, began to jump around the room with him. 

"Is there a frightful dragon, Mummy?" 

"Hm... I dunno... let's see, shall we?" 

"No dragon is any match for my warrior," I offered to Connor, earning a big little guy grin from him. "He's a real brave guy with a huge sword named Thor." 

Siv snorted and glanced over at me with that damn sly look of hers.

_Ugh... kids watching, woman!_

"Thor is it? An' is it his huge sword that's called Thor or is it this fierce warrior himself?" 

"The warrior is Thor. His sword is called... hmmm... Conan." I pulled her against me and risked a kiss on the top of her head, which the kids accepted like it was nothing unusual. "And the princess is named Bonnie," I said, low and just for her against her ear. 

"Bonnie's not a princess name, Daddy, it's Connor's Mummy's name. Call her Ashley." 

"Ashley?" 

"I like it, Meggie. Ashley 't is." Siv agreed with a quick wink and a devastating smile that assured Victory, _and grope-time_ was within reach. She nodded encouragingly to begin the tale, and I started the only way I knew how. 

_"_Once upon a time in a land far, far away..." 

.._.there lived a beautiful princess named Bon... Ashley. She was the most beautiful princess in all the kingdom. Her hair was red like fire and her eyes were blue as… er…um…"_

"Sapphires?" Siobhan added helpfully, adding a bat or two of her eyelashes.

"Right – sapphires."

_Despite being beautiful, the princess was not married off yet, much to the dismay of her mother Queen R-Mo... wena. Everyday Queen Mowena would give the princess lessons on how to set a table, how to pour tea and how to have proper conversation with her prince. Princess Ashley hated these lessons and often was "missing" whenever it was time for her daily princess duties._

"Where did she go Daddy?"

"Hey! I thought you said there was a warrior in this story," Connor pouted.

"Oh, but there is... but he didn't start out as a warrior. Thor was a... farm boy." Siv offered quickly. 

"What does a farm boy do Miss Bon?" 

" He mos'ly shovels shi-...er um...he tends to the horses Meggie."

_Everyday Princess Ashley hid among the hay bales of the stable to tease and torture the young farm boy, Thor. Taking it all in stride, Thor would give as good as the Princess gave, and the two became best friends. After Thor completed his chores they would run out to the old castle ruins and play their favorite game - "Save the Princess". Wielding a wooden sword his father had crafted for him..._

"Conan? Right Mr. Memmett? His sword was called Conan, wasn't it?" 

Nodding indulgently I continued with a quick ruffle to Connor's thick gold hair. 

_"By the power of Greyskull!" Thor would yell, plunging and parrying his sword Conan against an invisible dragon, or evil wizard. Ashley would scream her delight as she loved being rescued, but this princess also liked to join in on the fight. For hours they would run and jump and rush at imagined nefarious creatures until daylight dwindled to a thin red orange line along the horizon._

Connor and Meggie were jostling around the room, pretending they were fighting their own dragons and wizards. Siv and I watched with amused parental pride. We knew well enough this last burst of energetic play would help them sleep more soundly. Sound sleepers were very conducive to Mummy and Daddy make out on the couch time. 

"If we let 'em go at it, they'll sleep like logs." I wagged my eyebrows at Siv. 

"Wear them down, eh? Oh, and 'By the power of Greyskull'?" she hedged with a grin as she poked me hard in the ribs. "Yer showin' yer age, Em." 

"Hey now, you can't deny the power of a classic line." 

"Nor can you deny the pow'r of a grand… ahem… _broadsword._" Her hand wiggled between my thigh and the blue three-headed alien rug we sat on and squeezed my ass. "Well, this Red Sonja is looking forward to some time with her Conan." 

My eyes nearly bugged out of my head as I choked on my own surprise. 

"Red Sonja is classic American 80's cheese... you saw it in Ireland?" 

"Oh dear, no. The one cinema in Ballinagh must've shown _The Country Girls _fer twenty-five years straight, _but_ Ali had me wear a Red Sonja costume once to a Halloween party when we were at Uni. He was pretty piss poor Conan… didn't 'ave the chest for it, altogether. That being said, Em… you'd make a brilliant Conan." She traced a finger down my chest, making me sweat for all the right reasons. "And… I _might _still have my Sonja gear," she added playfully. 

_Jesus Mary and Fred._ There was not enough room in my pants to allow for the visual of Siv in a Red Sonja costume. I damn near swallowed my tongue. 

"Dress up?" I choked. 

"Dress up?" Meggie squealed. 

"I wanna be a pirate!" Connor shouted on his way to a large plastic treasure chest where Siobhan stowed his toys. 

"No, I wanna be the pirate! You have to be prisoner!" 

"I was prisoner last week, Meggie, you be prisoner!" 

"A'right, ye wee radgies, back in yer bedrolls and pay attention to the story or it's finished f' the night." Siv called out over the kids. They froze and rolled back into their sleeping bags, Meg pouting and Con looking a little relieved. Siv sat down on the carpet beside me again and picked up the story. Good thing; I was incapable of thinking about something other than my redhead in thigh-high boots. 

_As Princess Ashley got older, she was presented with an endless line of princes, which she all turned down for one reason or another. None were as tall and strong as Thor. This one wasn't as funny as Thor. That one couldn't swordfight like Thor. Neither of those had Thor's lovely blue eyes or perfect black curls. Ashley soon came to realize she wanted no one but Thor. Unfortunately Queen Mowena realized this as well. Unable to withstand the public embarrassment of having her daughter the Princess marry a commoner, let alone a lowly farm boy, the Queen decided to take matters into her own hands. Knowing Princess Ashley was stubborn as a mule and would not be swayed to marry anyone but Thor, Queen Mowena took the decision making opportunity away from her and dedicated her daughter to the Goddess Hestia. Hestia required Vestal Virgins to keep the sacred hearth fire in the Temple burning._

"What's a Hussy Goddess, Daddy?" 

**"**Ummm..." I cleared my throat a few times and scratched my ear before I raised my eyebrows in a gesture of "please help" to Siv. 

"At least she di'nt ask ye what a Vestal Virgin is," She whispered over them. "Meggy darling, it's H-E-S-T-I-A**. **Hestia**. **An ancient goddess who protected homes and families**. **Made sure homes were peaceful an' welcoming to all who entered**. **Bit like our own Brighid in Ireland**.**"

She was, of course leaving out a small detail.

"Uh, wasn't Hestia also swallowed whole by her father, Cronus?" I whispered sideways at Siv while smiling like a baboon at the kids.

"Shut it, McCarty," Siv rumbled back, her expression a close approximation of mine. "Now, then, where were we?"

_Princess Ashley was devastated. Imprisoned the night before she left for the temple, she cried herself to sleep over the thought of losing her friend, her soulmate... Thor. _

Meg's sniffles stopped Siv in her tracks again. She crawled out of her sleeping bag and into my lap.

"Hey, Nunk, what's wrong sweetheart?" 

"I feel sad for Princess Ashley and Thor. I would miss Connor so much if he had to go away." Meggie's cheeks glistened with fresh tears. "Miss Bonnie, you and Connor aren't leaving are you?" She reached for Siv, whose face crumbled as she gathered Meg into her lap. 

"Oh Meggie, love, 't' s alright… our story will 'ave a happy endin', right, Daddy?" she whispered into my daughter's blonde hair as her own worried eyes met mine. 

"Sure will, dollbaby. Hey, why don't you lay back down and listen, alright?" I squeezed her hand and stole a glance at Siv, nodding to her that Meg would be okay. 

"Mr. Memmett?" I'd known Connor long enough to see when he was wearing his big boy mask and he was trying like hell to keep it on, poor little guy. "Did Thor go after Princess Ashley? To save her? Because he should, shouldn't he?" He blinked back a single tear and flashed me a watery smile. 

"Yeah, he should. Cause they're best friends, right?" Connor nodded at me, his smile looking braver by the second. After squeezing Siv's hand for reassurance, I rolled back into the story.

_Thor heard of Princess Ashley's sentence one day in the stables. He knew that it was a very important to the kingdom, for when a king and queen gave their only daughter over in service to the Goddess Hussy... ahem… er… Hestia would bestow upon the land great fortune and favor from the gods. Thor cared not for these things. He only wanted Princess Ashley. Knowing his son, Thor's father, Big Thor the Blacksmith, came to him as he was packing his things to set off on his quest to follow after his love the next morning. Being a man of few words, Thor's Dad, Big Thor, gave him a bag of coins with the apology he couldn't give him more. Reaching for the sword at his hilt, father presented to his only son the family arms. Thor felt like a man holding that sword in his hands..._

"How could he not wi' such a grand broadsword," Siv giggled as she hid her face against my shoulder.

"Hush, woman. This is a serious moment between father and son," I muttered. "Can you at least try to hold yourself together in the presence of a master storyteller? I'm just getting warmed up, here. After tonight, you can hereby refer to me as 'The Bard'."

"Bard o' bullshite," Siv sing-songed under her breath.

"Daddy! More! What happens to Thor?"

_All his life, Thor wanted to be a warrior: To fight and defend like the noble knights he shoveled shi-… or, er… whose horses he took care of. Now he felt like one. _

"He felt like a horse?" Connor he asked me and actually held up his hand before he spoke.

"No, buddy, a noble knight."

_Now Thor was a grown-up warrior pledged to protect his princess and conquer any who would stand in his way. She was his only prize. His only need. He followed Princess Ashley's caravan to the Goddess Hestia's temple. The journey was difficult as Thor was traveling on foot and had to make sure he was not seen. Theirs was a small kingdom... and quite a gossipy one... Everyone knew the real reason why Princess Ashley was given away to be a priestess in Hestia's service and it was not a popular decision among the royal subjects. Thor was generally regarded as a great guy: smart, good looking, , funny, a whiz at Chutes and Ladders and a great pizza maker. It was obvious to everyone how much Princess Ashley and Thor loved each other.. Thor rarely rested and travelled on foot, but he never fell behind, for he did not dare let Princess Ashley out of his sight. After all, Thor was a big, strapping, hearty, guy after spending the better part of his life doing the hard physical labor that his so-called superiors were too lazy to do._

_One night, a great beast stalked the edges of Princess Ashley's encampment. Thor was amazed that no one noticed the huge creature but him. What kind of knights were these lame-os that guarded his Ashley? He took it as his quest to follow the beast back to its lair and tell it to be nice to everyone in Princess Ashley's caravan. _

_Thor covered himself in mud to mask his scent from the monster and help him blend right into the surroundings. The tree cover got thinner and thinner as he approached the beast's stinky lair. In the breaking light of dawn, Thor finally saw the beast for what it was. _

"What kind of beastie was it Mr. Memmet?" Con's eyes were as wide as saucers and so excited for me to go on with the story, he was almost vibrating under his Buzz sleeping bag. Meggie, on the other hand, looked a bit worried, clutching the sleeve of Connor's PJs tightly in her little fist.

I leaned down to the kids, looked over each shoulder like I was telling them the biggest secret of the ages, and whispered to them. 

"It was a dragon!" 

"Wicked!" Connor shouted as Meggie squeaked and hid under the covers, only peeking out when she heard me clear my throat to start the tale back up again. 

_Thor gripped his sword tighter. He swallowed his fear and waited in the brush fifty yards from the dragon's lair. As its long tail disappeared into the dark mouth of the cave, Thor sprinted across the scattered bon… um, bowling balls and burnt ground around the side of the mountain. He entered the creature's home, and silently stalked after it, going deeper into the wide dark passage that seemed to slant down into the earth. Just then, he saw light up ahead. But nothing prepared him for the voice he heard calling from within the lighted cavern._

_"Well, stop creeping around and do come in."_

_The voice belonged to a lady and sounded nice, not like a horrible beast at all. Curious, and not believing for one second that could be the voice of the great dragon he saw preying upon the love of his life and her guards, Thor sheathed his weapon and entered the chamber. _

I paused for dramatic effect. The sight before me was truly something to see. Siv had moved over to the kids, and they were wrapped up around each other, completely sucked into my story's tense turn.

Heh. _Put that in your brownies and bake 'em at nappy-nap time, Miss Rowan. _

"Who's in there, Daddy? Who?" Meggie wiggled and waggled along with Connor for me to continue. 

"It was... THE DRAGON!" With a great growl and roar I bowled into both children and started tickling them until I thought they were on the brink of wetting their pants. Siobhan laughed just as hard, and I considered getting a couple of digs at her very ticklish ribs; however, judging by how many times she had hit the bathroom already, I figured getting her in on the action was not such a great idea.

"Ri'ht, snuggle in your bedrolls, you lot," she said once they'd calmed down.

"The dragon can talk, Mr. Memmet? What happened next? What happened next?" 

_The cavern was immense. Larger than the stable Thor had worked in that housed more than a 100 horses. In the center was a large fire which illuminated the whole room. The dragon was curled up on a bed of moss, sticks, and brush; in fact, it looked like a nest. And it was! Thor could just see there was a large egg partially hidden beneath the creature's bright red scales. _

"_Pardon me, I wasn't prepared to receive gentlemen callers so early in the morning," the same voice echoed through the cave. Then, the dragon took out a mirror and put on a fresh coat of dragon lipstick. Thor's eyes widened with surprise. It was a lady dragon with eyes as blue as Ashley's. Suddenly, the lady dragon snorted a precisely aimed sliver of flame. Thor smelled burning hair and there was a hot sting above his left eye. _

_She had singed off a good chunk of his eyebrow! _

"Pancakes _an'_ dragons your nemeses, eh, Thor?"

I rolled my eyes at her and continued.

_"Answer me this, brave and stupid warrior, or you shall lose much more than just your eyebrow. Why are you here? Choose your answer carefully, for I am very hungry and I love barbequed knight for breakfast."_

_Thor straightened and looked right into the lady dragon's eyes. There was so much intelligence there, he thought this creature was more than just a beast and should not be disrespected with a lie. So he told the truth. As you should always do, no matter what. And spoke respectfully as you always should do with grown-ups or dragons._

_"Pardon me, Madame Dragon. My name is Thor, and I've come to make sure you do not eat the princess I love."_

_"Another princess," the lady dragon sighed, looking pretty bored. "And she's your true love, right?"_

_Thor felt his heart swell with the affirmation of it. He could not help but smile and sigh as he answered the great dragon._

_"Yes, ma'am. I love her very much. She's my best friend and the nicest, funniest, most beautiful red-headed princess in the history of red-headed princesses. Her name is Princess Ashley; she and her guards are at the encampment you just scouted."_

_"Ahh, yes, a delectable buffet for sure, but I had no time for the breakfast as I had to get back to my nest. However, a dragon has to eat, you know, and they are in my hunting grounds. I planned on going back there later once my egg is warmed." The dragon turned her great head and blew fire gently on the egg beneath her belly. "Tell me, brave Thor, for you are truly brave to be the only one of all those strong men to come and challenge me. Why are you the only one to face me? Why did you not alert the others and bring them as well?"_

_"They didn't hear you, because you are a smart dragon and did not want to be heard, ma'am. But I'm pretty smart too, for they have not heard or seen me during the entire journey to Hestia's temple."_

_Thor confessed to the dragon how he and his Ashley had been friends since they were children and how they grew to love each other. He told her how her mother the Queen sent Princess Ashley to serve Hestia at her Temple for the rest of her life. By the end of the story he was so sad he was on the brink of tears. He felt no shame for it, yet the dragon took pity, clucking her tongue and shaking her massive horned head. _

_"Do you wish for me to eat the Queen? The Goddess is off limits. They get testy if we try to eat them. Besides they are immortal and taste quite terrible. Like chewing mossy rocks."_

_"No, ma'am, please don't eat the Queen. Just let Princess Ashley's caravan go on their way in peace."_

_"That I can do. For True Love, I can… I have a true love of my own, you know. Nice guy, furry ears and all. But… I can also let you in on a secret, Thor the Brave. I happen to know that whenever a new priestess is chosen for her Temple, Hestia holds a competition for all the warriors in the land to come and vie for the position as personal guard to the new priestess. Win that competition my young and tasty troubadour, and you can win access to your lady love. Perhaps even… escape?"_

_Thor let out a huge yelp of joy and ran right to the lady dragon, wrapping his muscular arms around the great scaly neck in a hug of thanks. The creature let out a low rumble of sound that almost sounded like a laugh to him. Then the lady dragon pulled away so she could breathe another gust of fiery flame on her precious egg, and eyed Thor up and down. _

_"If you are going to compete as a warrior and champion for the Princess, you will need some half decent armor and a ride. The temple gates are a days' journey from here after all."_

_"I have no armor, ma'am. Nor do I have much money to acquire such things. I would rather save it to build a life with my princess once we escape the Temple together. As for distance, I'll catch up to them, they can't be too far down the Temple road. I might be a big guy, but I can run."_

_"Well, Thor, you are in luck. It just so happens I don't enjoy my knights with the shell on, so you can have your pick of whatever is laying about in my chamber." _

_The dragon blew a steady stream of flame around the floor of the room so Thor could see the remnants of some very sturdy armor about the floor. _

"_And it also happens that I like to have a long morning fly before I have my breakfast. Choose the best pieces, Thor, and suit up. Where we're going, we don't need roads."_

_Madame Dragon dropped Thor off in the woods outside the Temple just as Princess Ashley's caravan arrived at the Temple gates. No men were allowed in the Temple except for the personal bodyguards of the Hestia's priestesses. Thor begrudgingly followed the rest of the knights back to the barracks beyond the temple, joining princes and lords from many distant lands who were also there to compete for the position of bodyguard to a goddess' priestess. After all, it was a high honor. Thor was unnoticed amongst the other contenders, as he was now dressed as a knight with his new armor and his broadsword Conan sheathed and at the ready._

_On the day of the competition, Thor was finally able to see his beloved Princess Ashley. She was sitting beside the Goddess Hestia to watch the competition, dressed in a gown that was white as the snow on the kingdom's highest mountain to symbolize her purity and service to the Goddess. The red hair he had pulled and squished mud into when they were little was now a flaming halo of fire around Ashley's beautiful, but sad, face. Seeing her set a fire in Thor's heart to win the competition no matter what the cost so they could be together forever and have cookies at least twice a day._

_Thor fought with all of his strength and cunning. He brandished Conan with a fury against anyone who dared challenge him. When the dust settled, the trumpets sounded, and Thor was proclaimed the winner of the competition. Stepping up to the winner's circle to receive the favor of the Goddess and Priestess, Thor removed his helmet and revealed himself to his Ashley. Her elation at seeing her Thor standing victorious and proud in the center of the ring made her weep with joy. Forgetting her manners, she jumped off the stage into her hero's arms. The Goddess stood; anger at Ashley's display in kissing and hugging her new bodyguard flashed in her eyes. _

_A hush fell over the crowd. They could not believe the spectacle before their eyes. What was the priestess doing? How could she shame the Goddess so? Ashley realized her mistake and bowed down before Hestia, begging her forgiveness._

_"Rise, girl. Tell me one thing. Do you love this man?"_

_"Yes my lady, Great Goddess Hestia of Hearth and Home, I love this brave, tall, strong, witty, smart, and champion pizza-making man. I have loved him with all of my heart and soul for as long as I can remember. Your um… .Your Goddessness, I feel I would serve you better by upholding your precious creed by making my home with this knight, having children and a peaceful life with him."_

_Pleased, the Goddess nodded her head and smiled at the young couple, for even she could not argue with the Princess Ashley's sound logic. _

_"Then go, children. Live. Love. Laugh. You are free."_

_With that, Princess Ashley and Thor left the Goddess Hestia's temple, their whole lives ahead of them to love and live as they so wished._

_The End._

"Oh Daddy! That was the best story I have ever heard!" Meg reached up and wrapped her arms around my neck, planting butterfly kisses on my cheek and giggling at the day's worth of stubble there. 

"Aw, good,, dollbaby. Thanks." 

"Thank you so much, Mr. Memmet! It was ever so much better than listening to Miss Rowan's fairy stories. They're a bit boring, there are never any dragons with bowling balls in Miss Rowan's stories." 

"You are _very_ welcome, buddy." I leaned over to accept a tiny fist bump from Con. 

"'Twas truly a lovely story, darling." Siobhan stood up and stretched. " Oof... I must say, though, I'm a bit glad am it's finished. I need the loo _again_, don' I? Back in a tick, Em." 

"D'ye have wind again, Mummy?" 

"Con, ye cheeky gasun, might we try to convince the McCartys we're the slightest bit civil?" 

"Too late," I snorted before I could catch myself. Leaning into me Siv breathed into my ear. 

"Tha' will cost ye later, Emmett McCarty." With that she planted two quick pecks on the top of our children's heads and rushed out of the room in her "need a wee" sprint. 

I looked down at our two little ones. Connor's eyes were beginning to droop. Meggie's were already closed, and she was rubbing her nose as she always did just before she fell asleep. Just like I did every night of her life, I pushed the little bits of blond hair, so fine they were like fairy's wings, away from her forehead, inhaled her own little girl smell and kissed her forehead.

_Sleep well, my angel baby. Daddy loves you._

I stood up and imagined Hen, just the same as every night, saw him with his blue pillow he'd had since birth pulled over his head, his little eyebrows pulled tight over his eyes. I imagined my hand pushing the black curl off of his forehead and could almost feel his skin, still so much a little boys, under my lips.

_Good night, big guy. Daddy loves you, bud. _

_I miss you every second of every day, Henry. _

I smiled down at Connor and started for the door, then stopped.

My hand passed over his thicker blond hair, so different than Meg's, and I kissed his forehead.

"G'night, Mr. Memm…"

"Night, buddy."

_Sweet dreams, little guy. _

I turned off the Woody and Trigger lamp, pulled the door closed after one last check on Meg and stifled a yawn. After a full day of preparing for court, a _very active_ lunch date with Siv, and a wild night of dragons and true love, I was damn well exhausted.

_Couch. Siv. Grope._

I headed downstairs to wait for my girl.

"Wake up!"

_Wake… huh? Oh… damn._

Blinking and weary eyed, I started to push myself up from the cushions and felt something slightly hard – _and slightly spongy?-_ against my chest.

_What the -?_

I blinked again, trying to focus on the figure in front of me blocking the dim lamp light across the living room, and could just make out Siobhan standing there, holding Connor's foam sword and –

_Oh. Hell. Yes._

Red Sonja: All six feet of her, that wild-assed red hair all around her shoulders and in a buckled, laced, red fake-leather corset deal that pushed her tits up and out and over and suddenly leaning right toward me.

"Lord Emmett, ye dare fall asleep while you're meant to be guarding my temple?"

_Fuck. Me…_

"Speak, y' lazy oik," she purred, quietly. Her voice was doing a damn good job of sounding threatening, but her eyes twinkled, telling the truth. She was damn near cracking herself up.

I cleared my throat and grinned up at her.

"Well, uh… ma'am… it's been a long day of temple guarding and… I've got no excuse, my lady. I'm a bad, bad, bad knight."

She knocked against my good knee with her own, and my eyes snapped to the place our bodies touched. Against my wrinkled gray dress pants was a very long, very creamy, and very lush thigh wrapped in brown fishnet and a very dangerous-looking pair of brown leather boots that ended just above her knee.

"Jesus…" I groaned and pushed my tongue at my lip.

Siv straddled my legs, spreading those damn curvy thighs of hers across mine, and leaned closer, picking up the end of my tie that still hung loose from my neck.

"Don't ye be impertinent wi' me, Lord Skiving-on-th'-job. Y've left my temple unguarded. What should I do t' be sure it won't happen again?"

Her thighs that open and that close to my hand was just an invitation I couldn't refuse.

"Well, ma'am," I replied, walking my fingers up the seam of her fishnets. "I would hate to think of your… uh… temple… open and exposed to danger from a hard, fast assault."

Siobhan bit her lips together, trying like hell to keep from laughing. She wound my tie around her fingers and pulled my face close to hers.

"Well, then, y' errant knight, I'll 'ave to punish you for leaving my temple gates so exposed to… invasion."

"Why yes, ma'am, my lady, I'm willing to take any punishment I have to… uh… suffer… for my trespasses. But since I've given you good and steady service, ma'am, could I make one request?" Her mouth was so damn close it would have taken very little effort to get right there against those lips and kiss them very, very hard.

"I suppose, Lord Emmett, considering your good and… hmmmm… energetic prior services to my temple."

Her tits were damn near spilling over the top of that ridiculous contraption, and I couldn't help myself any more. I raised my hand to her and traced the swell of pale skin with my index finger, dragging it toward the faint outline of dark pink peeking just over the top of her corset. She gulped hard, inhaled harder, and I looked up at her, giving her the dimples just to cover my ass in case she decided to try to play hardball with me.

"Will you keep the boots on?"

My finger slid easily inside, found her nipple right there, right where I thought it was, and very ready for some attention.

"Get y'self up to my um… _oh, Em_… um… my chamber now."

"Well, yes, ma'am," I whispered and pinched the hard point of her nipple, drawing her to me so I could finally get a decent kiss from her. "I can do that."

Siobhan stood up, ran her tongue over her soon-to-be worked-over lips and pointed to the stairs with her sword.

"Gi' on with it, then. And if ye make a sound that wakes either one of those sleeping babbies, you'll regret it for a week, Emmett McCarty."

I headed toward the stairs, prodded along with a few swats at my ass from my red-headed goddess' sword. We tumbled inside her bedroom door and shut it quickly, shedding dress shirt and tie and corset and cape as we pawed at each other. Siobhan pushed me back on her bed and crawled after me, draped in nothing but red hair and fishnets and creamy skin and damn thigh-high boots.

"Are you ready to show me how eager you are to perform your duties and protect my temple?" Siv giggled as she struggled to look fierce.

"Oh yes, ma'am." I tugged on her hair and drew her on top of me. "C'mere, my lady. Prepare to meet Conan."


	69. One Shot by Souplover9

**Title:** Superman  
**Author: **souplover9

**Rating:** T 

**A/N: **Thank you hmonster4 for the beta job (note: all mistakes made are mine) and whatsmynomdeplume for encouraging me to sign up.

\S/

As a kid, people constantly asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I told them I wanted to be Superman. When I made such announcement to my family, at the age of seven, my dad patted me on the head and said "good job son." My mom told me to keep my feet on the ground and keep reaching for the stars. Garrett, my older brother, smacked me upside the head and said "don't be an idiot." That got him into trouble, much to my delight.

I had always idolized Superman and Clark Kent. How awesome would it be to be a superhero disguised as a journalist? Even though Superman was a fictional character, he was an excellent role model. He acted upon what he said he would do. He taught that helping people, being truthful, just, and being kind to everyone was a good thing. Also, he taught me that the world needed more good Samaritans. The whole 'help people in need' mentality stuck with me and I wanted to make that my life passion. I took my cue and followed in his footsteps. The only downside of having Superman as a role model was that I didn't have superpowers like him.

Somewhere between elementary school and junior high I lost track of what I wanted to be when I grew up, but the desire to be of service to society never felt _me_. At one point I considered becoming a doctor, but I quickly discovered in my seventh grade science class that the sight of blood made me queasy. In ninth grade, we did job shadows because the teacher wanted us to start thinking about out future. "It's never too early to plan," she would always say. We had to find someone who works in the field we were interested in and give a presentation to the class. Not knowing what to pick, the teacher ended up deciding for me. I ended up job shadowing a pastry chef. An hour into the shadow, I arrived at the conclusion that I would be a horrible pastry chef. I couldn't draw or pipe a icing to save my life.

In high school, I started volunteering at the soup kitchen. I did it because I needed volunteer hours for Honor Society, but I stuck around after my requirement was up because I liked it and I was giving back to the community. I was blessed to have a roof over my head, food in my stomach and clothes on my back, so why not help those in need?

A year later, a journalist who worked at _The Times _started volunteering at the kitchen. Every Monday, he told me about journalism. He shared his experiences, frustration with editors when they would "edit" his story, and the cool people he got to meet. I didn't realize how much of a positive impact a journalist could make on peoples lives. One day, Mike told me that one time he wrote a story about a lady who started a community garden in her neighborhood. The special thing about the garden was that she taught kids about math and business. Whatever the kids grew, she should teach them the needed skills, like how to make a fair trade, to sell their product to their family and friends. Mike told me that after the story had been published, he heard that several other neighborhoods had started up similar concept as the community garden. Hearing that Mike's story caused a ripple effect was the coolest thing ever to me, at that age.

Volunteering with Mike made me remember what I wanted to do ages ago- be a journalist. Over the next year, I really got to know Mike and eventually I job shadowed him, just for kicks. Just standing in the busy newsroom made me excited. Multiple times I had the urge to grab Mike's notepad and hit the streets looking for a story. Unfortunately for me, things didn't work like that, but Mike did make it worthwhile for me. I met other reporters, and the editor in chief, and they gave me great advice.

The newsroom was alive with buzzing energy. Reporters were trying to meet their deadlines, sources were being interviewed, the televisions were set to the local news channels and CNN, and they even had a basket of cookies next to the coffee machine. Everyone was friendly to me and I will never forget the sense of family that reverberated the room. I could only image what it would be like if I were working there. After that glorious day, I made it my mission to work at _The Times_.

I worked hard in high school to achieve my dream. I wrote letters to the editor of my local newspaper, and I worked for the school paper (which was more like a magazine, but beggars can't be choosers, right?) for my remaining two years of high school.

From there, I went onto The University of Washington. I worked at The Daily of the University of Washington for three years. I graduated with no job prospects on the horizon, so I moved in with Garrett, who was in Seattle. Shortly after, I became a part of the Neighborhood Watch with him. During my second week of patrol, I met my wife, Rose.

She was running out of her then-boyfriend's house, yelling "fire." There was no fire, but it was obvious she had been attacked. By the time we had rounded the corner, her boyfriend had her pinned to the sidewalk and was trying to quite her. His punches did no good as she screamed louder for help. We both sprinted toward them, me taking the lead as Garrett dialed 911. We got the prick tied up, and we helped Rose as much as we could while we waited for the police and ambulance to show up.

That was the start of our friendship and that was how I landed a job as the crime blogger at the community paper. I won't go into details, but they needed a new beat reporter covering crime, and I had the passion for the job. I wanted to tell people about what was happening in their neighborhood so they could get involved and try to put a stop to the violence. Eventually they got a program together to keep the neighborhood safe, and I became the _Times'_ crime beat reporter.

It's things like this that make journalism such an awesome job and it's what keeps me passionate about helping someone. When you see things happen as a result of something you wrote about, it keeps the fire burning and that's what you need, especially when dealing with heavy subjects like crime. That's why I'm constantly making jokes and act like an overgrown kid. Playing with my kids, laughing, thinking of jokes and innuendos keeps me sane. It's my stress relief, after a long, hard...day... that's where Rose usually interjects with "that's what she said."

But sometimes, the stress is too much and you can't handle it so you break down. I'll admit, the stress of the job has gotten to me more times that I would like. Fortunately, my wife is awesome and knows what to do to help me through those situations-She's my Lois Lane. Consequently, I'm her Superman- and not because I'm full of myself, because ever since the day me and Garrett saved her, she considers me her Superman.

And in some way, I'm living my seven year-old dream. I'm Superman and I'm Clark Kent. More so Clark, since the only Superman-esque thing I do is the Neighborhood Watch.

\S/

I ended my story and looked at the students in Edward's Intro to Journalism class. I vaguely remembered what it was like to be a student. They were so young an naive, but they had so much potential to become great journalists.

I smiled brightly at them, excited about their future, regardless if they pursued journalism. "Any questions?" I asked.

**The End**


	70. Outtake from Theheartoflife & Hmonster4

**Penname**: Theheartoflife1 & hmonster4

**Title**: Down & Across - Future take

**Rating**: T for this outtake

**A/N**: This is a flashforward from the end of Down & Across - a fluffy little ditty written this summer by Heart and Hmonster. Heart didn't actually know about this - it was a bday surprise for her. If you haven't read it, it can stand alone, but there are also 30 short and fun chapters that can be found on either of our profiles. Thanks to Lightstardust for the nudging and stinkeye.

BTW - Heart and Hmonster have a new EmxRo called A Player to Be Named Later - chapter 5 will go up this week - so if you need more of a fix...

**x O x O x O x**

Friday nights at the cottage on West Cooper were usually a low key affair. After dinner, Rose and Emmett would watch a movie or walk down to the beach, maybe stop in to see friends or take Dog for a walk. It was quiet in the off season; the streets were mostly deserted with the tourists all gone home. They basked in this time, a chance to relax and enjoy.

Tonight was _not_ one of those nights.

It started when Rose came rushing up the steps, a garment bag draped over her arm and her cell phone pressed against her ear. She'd avoided eye contact, brushing past Emmett, her heels clicking on the hard wood floor as she flew down the hall. A moment later the door to the bedroom slammed shut behind her.

He could hear a muffled "Mom, you aren't-" through the door. It was all Emmett needed (or wanted) to know.

It had been a little over a year since Rose made the decision to stay in Folly Beach, forsaking the surface glitz and glamour of her life in New York for something simpler and yet infinitely more meaningful with Emmett. The decision hadn't been without its sacrifices – most notably the toll it had taken on Rose's relationship with her mother. At first, Emmett had chalked it up to pride, or maybe poor communication, hoping that in time a thaw would come to the nuclear winter. But after a year of watching Rosalie try and fail to win her mother over, he'd come to realize that the relationship was much more complicated than he'd realized, and there wasn't a whole lot he could do to fix it.

So, while Rosalie slammed things around in the room they had taken to calling theirs (even though she still rented a cottage at the other end of the island), Emmett opened a bottle of wine, preparing for the damage that would inevitably be left in the wake of the storm. These calls never ended well, and this one would, no doubt, be exacerbated by the impending holiday. He could imagine Mrs. Hale insisting that Rose come home for a proper Christmas celebration, promising grand presents and lavish parties in lieu of the 'silly beach town' where she chose to live now. She didn't realize that those empty promises were why Rose had run from New York in the first place, and that this silly little beach town was more of a home than New York City or Rochester had ever been.

"All I want for Christmas is a happy girlfriend," he said, and took a sip of his wine. "And so help me, Mamma Hale, you fuck this up, I'll drive north and kick your ass myself."

He would, too. He'd do anything where Rose's happiness was concerned. The year that she'd spent, living on her own in Folly, had done wonders for her self-confidence and surprisingly fragile emotional state. Emmett himself had been surprised by how deep the emotional damage ran, and just how much it meant for her to cut loose from the old ties. It's why these phone calls infuriated him so much – they were like hurricanes blowing up the coast. They eroded the progress Rose made, forcing to her second guess herself and those around her.

At times, even him.

There was a muffled cry, a mix of anger and frustration loud enough to be heard through the heavy plaster wall. Then the bedroom door opened.

Only to be slammed shut.

It opened again.

Slam.

Three more times she repeated the process, opening and slamming the door like a petulant child. Emmett stifled a laugh, trying to imagine the look on Rose's face, her cheeks a livid, mottled red as she mumbled obscenities under her breath.

"Yo, Veruca, I have wine," he called. There was one more slam, followed by the clicking of footsteps on hardwood. Rosalie walked calmly into the kitchen, followed by Dog, his tail wagging cautiously, the look on his puppy face the canine equivalent of 'spare the glass, give me the bottle.'

"Hey," Rose said softly. Her hair was pulled back, her face scrubbed clean of makeup. Without concealer, he could see faint purple crescents under her eyes, a testament to the sleepless nights she'd deny having. "Mom couldn't even wait until after dinner to begin the airing of grievances."

"I take it her wish didn't come true this year?" Emmett said, hiding his smile behind his glass. Rose was making jokes, this was a good sign. Maybe the damage wasn't as bad as he'd feared.

Rose walked slowly around the kitchen island, smacking his ass as she passed him to retrieve her wine. "Nope, the great aluminum Festivus Pole is not shoved up your ass." She took a long, slow drink, and then dropped her head back, eyes closed. "You'd think she'd realize she has to remove it from hers, first."

Emmett knew how this needed to happen, so he waited quietly as Rose vented. It was like a mini five stages of death. First came anger, typically manifested in some type of physical action. _See doors slamming. _Then smart alec commentary, followed by some self-deprecating statement. _Apply one glass of wine or other stiff drink, and top off with a heavy sigh and the declaration of 'family, can't live with 'em, can't kill them.'_

Maybe not, but this year, Emmett was sorely tempted.

"You still okay to go to Esme and Carlisle's?" he asked. "I'm sure they won't mind if we don't-"

Her hand, held aloft in a silent 'oh no you don't' was more than enough to cut him off.

"Not on your life," she said, tossing back the rest of her wine. "Ali was going to bring me back some small pot Irish whiskey, no way am I missing out on that. If I don't get it now, the old toff is probably going to drink it all."

Esme was throwing the family's big Christmas Eve get together this year. Every McCarty (including his rowdy uncles Ali and Liam, who'd just gotten back from an extended trip to Ireland) would be there. Rose had been rambling on about it for weeks, excited to see the 'two daft gits,' as she jokingly called them.

"Babe, you don't-"

"Em, it's okay, I promise, I'll be fine. I'm going to stand here and drink another glass of wine and think dirty thoughts about you while you go shower. And then, while you dig the car out of this epic blizzard," she waved her hand absently at the window, where the sun hung low on the horizon. It was 65 degrees and not a cloud in the sky, very un-Christmas like weather, "I will get myself together and we'll be set to go."

She blew out a long breath and closed her eyes, smiling at some private joke. "After I call Santa and ask for a new family this year."

**x O x O x O x**

When Emmett got out of the shower, he found clothes hanging on the back of the closet door. He rarely wore anything other than cargo shorts and t-shirts or polos, and Rose loved the chance to dust off some of the clothes from his Boston days.

"I don't want you to go back to that life anymore than I do," she'd say with a smile, "but God do I love the way you look in a tie."

She liked vests too, and that's what she'd chosen for him tonight – a black suit complete with vest, dark blue shirt and striped tie. It was probably overkill for a family get together, but if it made Rose happy, he'd tolerate the references to 'poofs' and the buttoned up collar for one night.

Emmett had a habit of doing that a lot.

It wasn't that he disliked it, or the other things that Rose had introduced into his life. It was just…different. Like the music she loaded on his iPod or the food he'd find in the fridge. At first the additions were foreign, making Emmett overly aware of all the ways in which his life was changing. Now, he didn't even give it a second glance, happy that a simple gesture could make Rose happy. He'd mellowed, and it was all because of the blonde in the bathroom, singing _El Tango de Roxanne_ from Moulin Rouge at the top of her lungs…very badly.

He dressed quickly, tying a tight Windsor knot before slipping on the vest Rose was so damn nuts about. From the other side of the closed door there was the clink of glass against porcelain as she sat her wine glass down on the back of the toilet. The volume went up, her voice blending together with the Narcoleptic Argentinean as he sang "Roxannnnne" in heavily accented English.

This was the Rose he'd fallen in love with – the one who could laugh at herself, who could roll with the punches and not get caught up in the stupid shit. She could eat chicken wings, tell bad jokes, and fold easily into his family, even Emmett's crazy uncles needled her endlessly. It was something Emmett had been thinking about nonstop for the last month – how well Rose fit in with his family. He knew this was _for keeps_, he had for a while, and had gone far enough to buy the ring to prove it.

But the key piece had been missing – just exactly how to ask. Everything about their relationship had defied convention, from their initial meeting at the diner, to the crossword détente they'd formed, to the easy way they'd formed a life here together. Anything overly theatrical or thought out wouldn't mesh with that, and anything improvised wouldn't have done justice to what Rose deserved.

He'd beat himself up for weeks, trying to architect the perfect proposal…and now, completely unbidden, the answer to the whole thing had bitch slapped him upside the head.

"Thank you, Mama Hale," Emmett muttered, a smile stretching across his face. "I don't think you'll like being the inspiration for this, but I honestly do not care."

As quietly as possible, Emmett slipped out of the bedroom. Once in the kitchen, he pulled his phone from the charging cradle on the counter and hit #3 on speed dial.

Esme picked up on the third ring.

"Hey," he said, trying to keep his voice low.

"Why are you whispering, Bear?"

Emmett could hear the clanking of pots and pans in the background, the usually mêlée that preceded any family gathering. There was a rumble of laughter as Ali and Liam cracked what was, no doubt, an off color joke.

"Hey, we're still coming, but I need you to do me a favor…"

He launched into his explanation as his cousin listened patiently, her silence more than enough endorsement for his plan.

**x O x O x O x**

"Why are you staring at me like that?" Rose asked.

The door to the bathroom was open now, the volume adjusted to a more appropriate level as Michael Buble's _Grown Up Christmas Wish _floated out into the room.

"Just watching," Emmett said. He was leaning against the door frame, his hands shoved into the pockets of his dress pants. The heavy platinum band and delicate setting was hard against his finger, instilling a quiet confidence in him. He smiled at Rose as her gaze swept over him in a very slow, very blatant fashion. "I guess that means you approve, huh?"

"Two glasses of wine, you in a tie-"

"And vest," he amended.

"And I'm ready to blow off the party. I don't care how many bottles of 15 year old Redbreast Ali brought back for me."

"Gee, you know the way to the guys' heart," Emmett said, not moving from the doorway. "Although if you really want to play to Ali, you should put said breasts in red." He dropped his gaze for just a moment, his eyes lingering in the deep V of Rose's dress."

"Eyes up here, mister."

He grinned at her, squeezing the ring in his fist. "You about ready to go?"

Rosalie stepped back, surveying herself in the mirror. She'd used makeup to cover the dark circles, and the dark stain of anger was gone from her cheeks. She was relaxed and happy again, and Emmett wanted to keep her that way. "We look like Barbie and Ken like this."

"I don't do neck scarves or white shoes."

"Fine, we look like Malibu Ken and Barbie cleaned up."

"Well then, let's get on it, Barbie, your dune buggy awaits."

**x O x O x O x**

"Is it bad if we can hear them all the way out here?"

Rose walked slowly up the drive, the crushed stone and shell crunching under her heel. The sounds of music and laughter trickled out of the house, broken intermittently by a child's squeal of delight.

"I swear to God, Em, there isn't a better sound in the world than that," she said wistfully. "So much damn love in that house."

A warm pool of light bathed a small patch of grass in the front yard. Through the bay window, they could see Ali and Liam flanking Carlisle, their hands working frantically to tell a story. Carlisle's head swiveled back and forth between them, his eyes crinkling to match the smile on his lips. Esme floated by, her hand trailing along her husband's shoulders. It was such an intimate, simple gesture, but it spoke volumes.

He _wanted_ that. But only with her.

"Rose, wait-" Emmett said, grabbing her by the wrist and tugging her gently back to him. He opened his mouth, ready to let it all roll out, but nothing came. Rose frowned, shifting her weight from foot to foot in silent urging.

But there was nothing there.

"Emmett, what's wrong?"

Wrong…that's where this all had started…what was wrong. There shouldn't be anything wrong, not for her, not ever.

"Do you remember," he started slowly, making the words up on the fly, "the way that damn Christmas tree shredded my arms?"

It was a bit of a sore subject, one which Rose still accused him of being a baby about. They'd driven all over creation trying to find the perfect tree, which ended up being the Blue Spruce they'd found at a tree lot just off Folly. He'd hauled it into the house, and strung the lights, not thinking to put on a long sleeved shirt. The prickly needles had torn the tender skin of his forearms open, the scratches swelling up into painful welts. It turned out Emmett was allergic to pine sap, and he'd spent the evening scratching and uncomfortable, even after a liberal dose of Benadryl.

"You aren't going to-"

"Just hear me out," he said, holding his hand up. "It hurt like hell, but there aren't any marks now." Emmett took a deep breath, amazed by the fact that he was more nervous than excited now, when he'd been a frustrated mess over this very topic for the last month. "You've brought all these crazy, different things into my life. I may bitch about them, or give you a hard time, but it doesn't mean I don't see what you're doing. And I realized that I haven't done anything in return-"

"You've done more than you know," she said softly. "You opened a whole new world up to me, one I didn't even know existed."

Emmett pulled her toward the window, hovering just outside of the soft light radiating from the house.

"This is as much your world as it is mine, you know that don't you? They're your family too, if you want them to be. Marry me, Rose. Even if it's just for my crazy uncles and Maggie and Esme. Marry me and I promise I'll fill in all those empty places so they can't hurt you ever again. I promise to deal with the scratches every year, and take Benadryl before I put the tree up. I'll do anything, just so long as I know that you are happy and you believe you are loved."

The sounds of the house filled the quiet space between them, laughter and conversation and happiness trickling out from the windows, which Esme had cracked open at Emmett's request.

"Twenty one across," Emmett said, fishing the ring out of his pocket. "A simple proposal. Seven letters."

Marry me?

He extended his hand, palm up. The platinum bad winked in the light, the perfect, round stone looking like a piece of ice, a tiny bit of winter cold on a comfortable South Carolina night.

"You are such a dork," she said, throwing her arms around his neck. "Yes, yes, a thousand times yes."

As if sensing the moment unfolding outside, Liam could be heard over the din of the crowd. "Es, where is that daft boy and his lovely tart on the side? I feel the need to cause trouble, and it's never complete without our partner in crime. We need our lovely little Rosie now."

"See," Emmett said, kissing Rose on the forehead. She leaned against him, soft and warm and still. "This is home now, lovely little Rosie. This is where you belong."

He pulled her along into the house, where there was a rousing cheer of "It's about time." Corks popped, the bottles of champagne that were typically saved for the end of the party making the rounds as the family welcomed Rose into the fold. Maggie actually beat Ali and Liam to Rose, throwing her arms around Rose's waist, and burying her face in Rose's side proclaiming, "This is the best Christmas gift ever."

Liam sidled up to Emmett, his arm heavy across Emmett's shoulders.

"It's about time, Lad. If you didn't ask her soon, I was going to."

Emmett smiled, watching as Rose spun Maggie around, the laughter mixing and melding with the other voices and well wishes. She glanced over her shoulder at him, her eyes sparkling and full of life.

"I love you," he mouthed, It was a bit of a joke between them, something Rose couldn't hear enough, and Emmett rationed – wanting to make sure when he said it, Rose knew how much he meant it.

And how much he always would.


	71. Drabble by Silver Sniper of Light

**Pen Name: **silver sniper of night

**Title: **A Brother's Right

**Rating: **T

**A/N: Thank you to Rae Cullen and Whatsmynomdeplume for taking the time to pre-read and beta. Thank you to AccioBourbon, Hmonster4 and Theheartoflife for organising this, and allowing me to contribute. It's been fun to write, and I hope you enjoy reading. **

There's some sort code for being an older brother. Something that gives you the right to make your sibling's life that little bit more difficult than it needs to be. Perhaps it's to make up for the years of having my younger brother throwing up on my bed, needing all the attention and being an annoying shadow. The thrill of having a little annoyance wanting to be everything you are wears off pretty damn quickly.

So now that Edward's fourteen and panicking, it's kinda fun to mess with him.

"But what does her friend mean when she says she likes me?" he asks, walking up and down the length of my room, his voice taking on a high-pitched tone that couldn't be normal at his age. He should probably worry about that more than the girl in his math class.

"That she likes you," I reply, trying not to smirk when Edward's anger trumps his worry.

"Yeah, I'm aware, dumbass. But what do I do about it?" he answers, falling onto my bed and looking as if he's about to cry. Poor thing. He's sort of pathetic really. But not pathetic enough for me to take pity on him.

He looks up at me and I stare straight at him without blinking for a moment, pretending I'm actually thinking. That is, until he gets so uncomfortable with my staring he yells.

"Emmett!"

"It means she wants to see you naked."

"_What_?"

The absolute horror on his face is too much and I practically collapse laughing. Edward falls back on the bed, smacks his head on the headboard and jumps up with a cry. I know it wasn't that bad of a hit, so by this time, I'm almost in tears from laughing. I close my eyes and give myself a few seconds to calm down. By the time I can look at my brother again, he's hunched up on my bed, looking miserable rather than annoyed. I smile to myself and ask, "Do you like her?"

"What?" he asks, startled and red faced, telling me all I need to know. I kinda wonder who this girl is that already has him under her thumb.

"Do you want to see her naked?" I clarify.

"Yes... I mean no! Maybe... what? Emmett!"

I grin, glad to see he isn't in danger of going emo on me.

"Ed, her friend said she liked you. This chick..."

"Bella," he mutters, looking away as his whole face turns red. Yeah, I really needed to know more about this chick. That's my new plan for school on Monday.

"Bel-la," I say slowly, watching as Edward shifts uncomfortably, "hasn't said a thing to you. Seeing as you like her, and she might like you... just be cool," I finish with a smile.

Edward stares at me for a moment, then frowns and stands.

"Thanks for nothing," he spits, and I let him walk to the door before I call his name. He turns and looks and I just grin.

"You'll be fine," I say.

And I just watch as the anger fades and he calms down. He smiles slightly in reply, gives me a nod and leaves the room.

I sit back and grin at the ceiling. He'll be okay and knows what to do. He just wanted his older brother to tell him that.

I always would. But there was no harm in messing with him before I did.


	72. Outtake from TallulahBelle

Title: **Hope and Roses (An Elemental side-shot)**

Author: TallulahBelle

Rating: M

A/N: Thank you to **Spanglemaker9** for pre-reading!

Also, many thanks to **Cher** for going above and beyond for beta'ing this one-shot and teaching me a new trick.

My thanks to the readers and Emmett lovers from Elemental.

**EmPOV**

"_Shirt and trousers pressed…check."_

"_Matching dark grey tie…check."_

"_Polished black shoes…check."_

"_Black dress belt…check."_

"_Clammy hands and a knot in my stomach…check and check."_

"Emmett! You're going to be very late!" Mom loudly called up the stairs, sounding concerned and annoyed all at once.

"I'll be ready in a few!" I yelled back, as I laid my silk tie against a matching dress shirt on my bed. I stepped back to see if I was missing anything and realized that I had forgotten my lucky cufflinks. Frantically, I raced back to the tall, dark wood dresser on the other side of my bedroom and practically ripped out the top drawer in my haste to find what I considered to be my talisman for all situations that made me feel any form of uncertainty.

Usually I never felt like I needed them, but today was different. Today was-

"Emmett, stop fidgeting! You needed to be out the door five minutes ago," Mom said with a series of rapid taps against the other side of my closed bedroom door.

"I just need to get dressed-"

"You said _that_ five minutes ago," she cut me off, complete frustration evident in her voice.

I didn't respond, as she was right. I hurried into my best dress clothes as dictated by the invitation I received from the Hale family three weeks ago for Rosalie's eighteenth birthday party.

It wasn't like it was a surprise request. Our eighteenth birthdays were a day that we grew up expecting to celebrate in a big, big way. Like marching bands and lavish parties with half-naked girls popping out of cakes sort of celebration…

…well, not really. Just kidding about the marching band.

Actually, it meant that we had officially reached adulthood in the eyes of the Coven. We were expected to participate in adult rituals and business. We would have to discuss with the leaders of the Coven, currently Carlisle and Esme Cullen, about our place within it. Usually it was to talk about further schooling so that we could eventually work in the tiny town of Forks, Washington to continue on the legacy of our ancestors and protect the promise made by them.

Not to mention, and probably just_ as_ important, we also became of age to imprint.

I had turned eighteen during the winter and had known a moment of excitement wondering if I would imprint soon after, but it didn't come. The closest to me in age was Garrett Mallory, as he was born a month after me, except we were both into girls so an imprint between the two of us was not going to happen.

But you never know whom you'll end up with as a mate. Same-sex imprinting had happened before. It wasn't out of the question; it had occurred a few times within the Coven.

"Sweetheart? Do you need some help?" Mom asked, calmer this time, still stationed on the other side of my door.

"I'm fine, just getting my pants on," I told her, slipping my right leg into the funnel of lightweight fabric and then the other. It took me another minute to situate myself and tuck in my shirt. I grabbed my belt and walked to my door to let her in, knowing that she wouldn't leave me alone until she saw me.

She looked a little stunned for a second before her face morphed into one of fondness. I knew exactly what she was thinking: I wasn't a little boy anymore.

"Need help with your tie?" she asked quietly, looking close to tears but with pride in her eyes.

"Sure," I said, humoring her, letting her in my room. I knew she wanted to be useful as she felt her days were numbered as the woman who had the right to take care of me. It was something she lamented about for the past year, before, during, and after I became an adult. The invite from the Hales for Rose's birthday party set off the latest round of her crying jags. Although no mating was a done deal, she was certain this was it for me. That Rose was meant to be mine. I kept pushing that bit of info away, not wanting to jinx any possible chance I had with her. This was something I couldn't talk about with anyone, not even Mom.

She picked up the piece of narrow silk from my bed and I ducked my head down to let her get it around my neck. After a minute or two of tying and straightening, she placed her hands on my shoulders and smiled up at me.

"Where are your cufflinks?" she asked, with watery eyes.

"Right here," I whispered, reaching out for the small black velvet box that lay on the bed, stark against the light green of the comforter beneath it.

I knew that it was obvious to where they were, as it was the only piece of jewelry that I was careful of and kept in a box, but I knew that Mom had something else to say, and this was her way of trying to find the words to speak, but she wasn't ready to. So, I let her have her quiet time until she was able to say them.

After she helped me with the last details of my appearance she let out a small sigh and looked up at me, giving me a grin, showing off the dimples I inherited from her.

"You ready?" she asked.

"Yeah…I think I am," I said, feeling another tug on my stomach, hoping to the gods I wouldn't puke.

"Emmett, I don't know what will happen today- maybe nothing, maybe _everything_. I know you will make the right choices for yourself and…" she started, so certain in tone, but chickened out in the end.

Again, it was that part of her wanted to keep me as her baby boy, sitting at her feet in the greenhouse as she hummed to the flowers, showing me her love for Earth, and teaching me my first lesson with my powers on a basil plant. She wanted those memories to stay important to us as mother and son. She was scared that when I did imprint I would think less of them as I built new ones with my mate.

"Mom," I said, looking down at the crown of her head, sprinkled with strands of graying hair, making patterns between still-full locks of brunette. She kept her head down and gave an ashamed sort of sniffle. "Momma," I whispered lovingly, using the title that came readily as a child, reaching for her hand to take it in mine.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, I'm feeling a little nostalgic today," she said, finally looking up at me. A tear ran down her face, disturbing the powder make-up she wore, revealing a few freckles hidden underneath.

"I love you," I told her simply.

Her smile was instant and brilliant.

"Where did the time go?" she asked, grin and dimples deepening on her lovely face.

"I don't know," I told her honestly.

As if remembering the purpose of why she had hunted me down in the first place, she shook her head and placed her hands on my cheeks. "You're late for Rose's party. I have her gift ready by the back door."

"Thank you," I said, the uncertainty returning.

"Have fun, and tell me all about it when you get home," she said, speaking words that I knew weren't the complete truth.

"I will," I replied automatically, giving her a peck on the forehead and moving to slip on my shoes and buckle my belt.

When I was done, I walked toward the now-open door and stopped to turn back to look at her. She was sitting on the edge of the bed looking at a picture of the two of us on my first birthday, me covered in cake with a deer-in-the-headlights expression and her leaning her unlined, youthful face near mine with a big smile, pointing towards the camera.

I walked back and sat next to her on the bed, wrapping an arm around her delicate and still small waist.

"It feels just like yesterday when this happened," she said, tears entwined with love in her voice. "I put a piece of cake in front of you, and you grabbed it with your little hands, shoving as much of it in your mouth as you could, making little piggy noises."

She leaned her body into mine, letting me cuddle her, like she used to cuddle me when I was smaller…much, much smaller.

"A second after this picture was taken, you threw it up all over yourself," she said and then laughed.

I laughed with her, loving the intimate but strangely happy picture she painted. She remained silent after our laugh but then started humming the tune she would sing to comfort me when I was little and scared of the dark or came home with a new bruise. Without fail, I found myself relaxing into the melody, feeling like a little boy again.

Sighing loudly, she leaned away and turned to face me. "I didn't mean to get all weepy on you. Go to the party. You're _beyond_ late," she said, her smile and self-certainty returning.

"Love you, Momma," I said, rising from the bed and smoothing the front of my shirt.

She stood as well, and we walked downstairs to the back door where a potted plant with three glorious blooms, the colors of fire, waited for me. All of a sudden with a glance at that harmless-looking flora, the room felt hot, and my palms were wet with sweat.

"Emmett, she's going to love it. It's beautiful," Mom encouraged me, stopping next to the terracotta pot.

"I hope so," I croaked out my reply and tugged at my now too-tight shirt collar.

"Stop fidgeting. It's a wonderful gift and I assure you no one else would have gone to the lengths that you did to give her this present," she said, slapping my hand away from my throat and straightening my tie.

She was right, _again_, and I felt a lot better knowing that I had created something special just for Rose, something that I felt she would see the special meaning behind.

A little over four years ago, before I had turned fourteen, I had crossbred a rose from the McCarty greenhouse with one from the Swan greenhouse as part of my Earth studies. I had created a hybrid that had a resistance to pests like a landscape rose, while retaining the sweetness and bloom of the tea variety. It was my first successful attempt at growing one of these prickly beauties, as Mom had only let me work on more mundane plants like herbs. It was a test that I passed with flying colors, and it meant that I would be able to work on some of the tougher plants next, hopefully the hybrid coconut and pineapple tree I had been planning. I would call it the McCartolada tree. Everything you would need to make the ultimate virgin piña colada in one plant. All I needed was the blessing of the Leaders…or Esme in this case. I would be the envy of all the others, earning my place with the adults before the other Witches in my generation.

Filled with pride over my achievement, I brought one of those perfect blooms in a vase to my Young Witches meeting at the Cullen house to show our lesson progress to Esme. She had a special interest in me, as I was an Earth Witch like her. She shared information for certain spell techniques with me more than she did with Angela and Mike, who were also attuned to Earth. I _so_ wanted to impress her with my skills and get the go-ahead to make my tree.

Upon arriving, I found some of the others had gotten there before me and were in the middle of showing their own successes to Esme. I barely gave any of them my attention, unable to wait to show my flower. When it came to be my turn, I handed Esme the vase with the pale pink bloom and waited for her to be in awe of my outstanding work and announce that I had created the best results out of the whole group.

"A present for me? Thank you, Emmett. I love roses," Esme smiled at me pleasantly, and I thought this was it: she would say it was the best flower ever and give me the answers I needed to go forward and make the McCartolada.

"I made it so that it would smell good but act like an outdoor rose," I told her, chest puffed out in self-satisfaction.

I went on to explain to her all the work I had put into it while she listened to me.

"Good work. I'll talk to your mom about the next step for your lessons," was her response, and then she turned to the next person.

I felt all the happiness run out of me as I had hoped that I would get a bigger reaction. Instead it was just "good work."

Mike was the next to show his results, but I didn't feel like listening. In fact I tuned out until show and tell was over and a ten-minute break was announced for snack time before we continued. I hung back as the others walked towards the kitchen, laughing over something one of them said, but I didn't feel like joining.

"Emmett, what's wrong?" Rosalie asked.

Looking over to my right, I noticed that she was standing right next to me.

I was struck by the subtle changes I had been seeing in her for the past year. She was starting to physically change, like the rest of us. I shot up in height and noticed my voice altering, while Rose started to gain curves in areas of her body that made me want to reach out and touch her differently than just giving her a playful noogie or a mock fight, which Mom said that I wasn't allowed to do anymore since I was bigger and could hurt her.

"Emmett," she repeated, staring up at me with her big, blue eyes.

"Nothing, Rose," I said, feeling my cheeks getting warm from my thoughts about her.

"Come on, Emmett. You're pouting!" Rose pushed, putting her hands on her hips.

"I am _not_," I whined.

"Are too!"

"Not!"

"Too!"

"No-"

"Stop being such an idiot!" Rose cut into our usual means of talking with one well-placed punch to my upper arm. "You're such a baby sometimes!"

"Am not!" was my clever comeback, mad at her for calling me a baby, but I deflated shortly afterwards as it was a "babyish" thing to say.

Rose crossed her arms over her chest with an "I told you so" expression.

Not happy at being out-witted, I crossed my arms over my chest and gave her the stink eye.

We stared at each other like gunmen in a gunfight, each of us eyeing the other, looking for weaknesses or to see who would back down first. We both refused to budge from our spot with fingers anxiously twitching, ready to reach for our loaded guns.

Rose's eyes narrowed, scaring me slightly; they felt like they could pierce my skin and see inside my head. The room felt warmer, and I could feel the stickiness of my sweat sucking my shirt to my body, but I still wouldn't give into Rose.

She narrowed her eyes further until they were slits of pure silver. I knew the next step for her was to physically torture me…which she knew how to do perfectly. She would go straight for the back of my knee and pinch me there, causing me to fall in pain and scream like a little girl, embarrassing me in front of everyone.

"Esme only said I did good work!" I blurted, scared of the imaginary Rose.

Rose looked stunned by my admission. I was waiting for her to burst into laughter at my declaration, so I ducked my head to lessen the oncoming jokes she would throw at me.

"What's wrong with that?" she asked me seriously, no hint of teasing in her voice.

I peeked up at her to see that she wasn't even close to laughter but was truly curious about what I said. Knowing that I had an audience, I explained to Rose all the work I had put into the flower and why it was special. She asked questions in all the right areas, taking a closer look at the single flower I brought. As she didn't seemed bored, I launched into my future dreams for developing hybrid plants that could grow more than one fruit or vegetable, starting with my piña colada tree.

At that, she did laugh, but not at me. She seemed just as curious as I was in growing such a plant.

A silence fell between us. I felt that strange feeling in the pit of my belly, similar to the sensation of being on a roller coaster. I glanced down at Rose to find her watching me, reflecting back the same emotions as if we were both seated on that rollercoaster, taking on dip after swell.

"I think it's beautiful, Emmett," Rose whispered, bringing the rose to her nose to smell it.

I could feel my chest swell with pride over her words. They were honest and made me feel ten feet tall. Whatever upset I had earlier had been replaced with happiness over Rose's praise.

"Keep it," I told her as she started to hand it back to me. Her pink lips turned up in a smile, and I felt the stirrings of that need to touch her gently.

"Thank you, Emmett," she said and walked towards the kitchen to join the others.

I think a part of me was lost to Rose that day with her kind gesture and pretty smile. In the years that followed, my feelings for her had developed as our friendship grew. There were moments when I thought that she might like me as more than just her friend, but the worry of not being each other's mates kept me from ever expressing my feelings to her. I never wanted her to feel that I couldn't be a good friend if that was all that we were ever meant to be to each other. I wanted her in my life in any shape or form that I could have her.

Extremely masochistic, but necessary.

I knew that I wasn't the only guy that thought of Rose as more than a friend. Garrett had shown interest, _a lot_ of interest, in her as well. There had been an underlying competitive tension between the two of us over Rose for the majority of high school, whether it was to see who could ask her to a dance or to simply be the one to drive her to and from school. Of course when Edward, Mike, and Tyler, who were a year younger than us, started to notice girls, the first one they gravitated to was Rose.

I couldn't blame them for being drawn to her. She had everything going for her in both the beauty and brains department. It was hard to sit back and watch the fawning over her when all I wanted to do was the same.

Now, in less than fifteen minutes, I would find out what my relationship with Rose would be…and I was totally scared.

Mom fluttered around me with last-second primping to my outfit and hair in front of the back door that led to the garage. Feeling the knot in my gut expanding, I kept still and let her have her way.

"You look so handsome…Rose will not know what to think," she encouraged.

"Mom, it's not a certainty. You know it isn't," I responded, wanting to throw up what little I had eaten for breakfast.

She came to a full stop in front of me with her hands clasped in front of her. "I can't help but feel that this is it."

Looking down at her sad expression I reached over and gave her a hug. She wrapped her arms around me and returned it with all that she had in her.

"Mom, what did I tell you? I'm always going to need you in my life," I reminded her, inhaling her floral scent that smelled exclusively of Mom.

"I know, I'm sorry to be such a fool over this, but I know how you feel about Rose," she said pulling away and glancing up at me.

"What do you mean?" I asked a little shocked.

"I've seen the way you look at her and speak about her. It's obvious that you care for her as more than just a friend. I wasn't focusing on Rose because of how close in age you two were but because of your feelings for her."

I just looked down at her stunned, thinking that I had hidden my crush on Rose pretty well, but I should have known better. Mom would see whatever I was trying not to say or show the world.

"Be brave, Emmett. If this is it, take it and make her know how much she means to you, and never let her doubt it."

"But, Mom, she may imprint with another-"

"No, buts. A mother knows things about her children, and I know this. Now go," she said, reaching up on tiptoe to kiss my cheek.

Nervously, I reached for the present and walked out the back door with only the words of my mom and trickles of adrenaline pushing me forward as my head was in a complete fog.

I walked down the street rather than drive, as it wasn't far away. The Hale house was the next one over from ours, and it would only take me about five minutes of travel.

I looked down at the flowering bush, wrapped in red foil with a big orange ribbon, in my hands. I had bred a special rose just for Rose. I felt a sense of accomplishment swim up from the pit of my fear, knowing that I had truly worked hard on making the best for the only girl that I could ever love.

I had created a rose that looked like a burning flame of reds, oranges, and corals that gave off a fragrance of pure warmth. It took me awhile to get it just right, but I had succeeded, and the first bush was my gift to Rose.

As I turned the corner, I could hear happy voices coming from the backyard of the Hale house in the area of their greenhouse. I had started to go towards them but thought it would be more appropriate to knock on the front door.

Upon reaching the front porch, I put down the flowerpot to wipe my hands on my pants, trying to get rid of the excess sweat that had built up during my walk. When I felt I was ready to join the party, I rang the doorbell.

Moments later, Mrs. Hale answered with a bright smile on her face. "Emmett, we were worried if you were coming or not. It's almost time for the cake."

"Sorry, Mrs. Hale," was my only response as she stepped back to let me inside the house.

"We're all out back. Follow me," she said.

The clicking of my shoes against the hardwood floor sounded like the ticking of a second hand on a clock, keeping the time of the countdown until I saw Rose. It sounded a little mockingly as my steps moved closer to the greenhouse, letting me know that it might be all for nothing.

Mrs. Hale passed through the glass pane doors and down a few steps leading to the center of the room where about forty people were currently enjoying themselves.

Garrett was the first face that I recognized out of the mix of bodies that seemed to be a big splatter of pastel color against green leaves, white wood panels, and glass.

"Emmett! Where've you been?" he asked, slapping a friendly hand on my back.

"Stuff at home," was my reply, as the ticking sound became louder in my ears, blocking the rest of the noise around me. "Have you seen Rose? I wanted to give her my gift," I continued, hearing my voice in an echo through my head.

"Yeah, she was talking to Alice Cullen just a second ago," he said, pointing towards a group of laughing girls that stood in a small circle on the other side of the room.

"Thanks," I said moving past him, not waiting to finish with polite talk, wanting nothing more than to get this over with and see if this was it, the next step in my adult life.

The walk felt like it took an eternity to make, but once I reached the group of girls, I noticed that Rose was the one directly in front of me with her back to me.

"Uh, Rose, uh…h-happy birthday," I managed to say, feeling the sweat run freely down my back.

I didn't know the complete details of what happened next except that Rose turned to me with a big smile and then stopped, staring at me with the strangest expression. It wasn't fear or anger or anything I knew; it was just strange, and I understood why as an urgent tugging sensation built up in the area of my stomach, pulling me towards Rose, telling me to go to her, _be_ with her, or I would know pain.

I heard a crash as if from a great distance and felt my hands become lighter. The ticking noise stopped and was replaced with a rush of wind and a melodious hum that wove around me and then over to Rose. We stared at each other in wonderment, moving ever so slowly towards each other, until our hands touched and the hum let out a lusty approval at the connection.

"Emmett?" Rose asked uncertain.

Then the sounds of the room returned in full blast as I felt hands grab hold of my arms and saw the same happen to Rose. I grasped her hand tighter and she mine, too scared to break this connection.

A masculine voice spoke in my ear, "Emmett, we're taking you two upstairs. You've imprinted with Rose…do you understand me?"

I turned my head to see who it was. Carlisle Cullen looked at me with concern, waiting for an answer. I nodded my head. I glanced back in the other direction and saw Rose with her mother, most likely having the same conversation. Her blue eyes were on mine the entire time, shocked by what happened.

I recovered first and pulled her against my side, tucking her under my arm, feeling the first seconds of elation as realization flooded my brain.

We made our way up to the second floor with the help of a few caring hands behind us, but I couldn't tell you who they were, my senses only on the beautiful girl next to me. My main thought was on protecting her, as she was to be my priority from now on. The humming that surrounded us urged us forward and together, wanting our bodies to fuse.

Rose led me to her bedroom and closed us in, never letting go of me. Looking at our clasped hands, I saw that I was trembling.

"Emmett?" she whispered hesitantly, a drop of fear entering her countenance.

I let go of her hand and placed mine on either side of her beautiful face. "Don't be afraid, Rose. I'll never hurt you," I vowed.

She smiled up at me a little shakily, "I know you won't."

Feeling that I couldn't wait any longer, as the humming pushed and my own desires urged me to continue, I leaned down and placed my mouth against hers, giving her a gentle kiss, hoping to reinforce my pledge to her with action.

Rose responded and let me explore more of her plush lips, tasting a hint of a punch she must had been drinking before I arrived. It was sweet to taste, adding more to the thrill of being able to touch her as I had always wanted to.

Nervously, we broke apart, knowing that we needed to finish the ritual. Rose let go of me and I felt a split second of pain at the lack of touch. She reached behind her, starting to awkwardly unzip her dress.

"Let me help you," I whispered, turning her around to tug the metal closure down past her waist, parting the soft material that had been molded to her body.

Seeing her skin revealed beneath, I couldn't help myself and reached my hand inside to caress the soft looking skin at the base of her back. He body arched away from my hand with a startled gasp at the contact, but I held still, letting my fingers remain to let her get used to the feeling. Slowly she settled back against my touch, accepting it.

I moved my fingers ever so slightly upward, exploring her softness along the way to the top of her right shoulder where I slid my hand under the flimsy strap of her dress. I raised my left hand to her opposite shoulder to push down the other strap and watched in a fascinated daze as the peach fabric fell to floor uncovering more of Rose's sun-cherished skin.

I kept my hands on her bare shoulders, trying to keep a grip on my excitement as she was now only covered in small, white lace panties and the long mane of her golden hair. She stepped out of her shoes and back against me. With a gentle press of my hand, I requested her to turn to face me so that I could see more of her body. She did as I asked, but raised her arms to cover her breasts.

I glanced down into her lovely features and saw the hesitation that she never expressed in front of me. I didn't like to see her feel that way and reached to take her hands in mine, pulling them away from her body and placing them on my chest. I kept my eyes on her beautiful blue ones as much as I could, trying to tell her that she could trust me, but I had to look, I _had_ to see her.

_Oh my goddess…_

She was everything that I had fantasized about and more. My eyes roamed the length of her, taking in her perfect curves that defined her as woman. Her skin looked just as soft all over, and I felt the primal tug in me that bordered on the painful that needed to feel her against my own skin.

"Emmett," she called to me, breaking me of my stupor, and locked eyes with hers.

Knowing that I was wasting time and making Rose feel more uncomfortable by the minute, I lifted her in my arms and walked her over to the bed, letting her get in between the covers. She turned and looked at me expectantly as soon as she was settled. I looked down at myself and saw that I was still dressed. I had been so enthralled with Rose and concerned for her comfort that I forgot my own state of dress.

I made quick work of my clothes and threw them haphazardly onto the floor until I was standing only in my boxers. I looked back at Rose, who was watching me…or a part of me. Her eyes were located on my boxers and had a look of extreme worry as she held the covers to her chin. I glanced down and saw that without the cover of my trousers, my little Emmett was standing at full attention.

I jerked my head back up at Rose and started to apologize for possibly scaring her.

"No…no, it's not that," she said, meeting my gaze and shaking her head. "I've never done this, and I don't know if you'll fit. I-I…sorry, I'm just nervous," she said.

I slid into the bed and lied on my side close to her, placing my hand on her shoulder, giving her the chance to prepare for more touching.

"I'll try to be as careful as possible. I promise," I told her, running my fingers down her arm, hearing the vibrating pleasure of the bond, wanting me to continue touching my mate.

"Thank you," she said, finally relaxing, and snuggled next me. Her eyes lost the fear that I saw glimpses of seconds ago.

Her soft, warm skin touching mine heightened every nerve ending in my body and increased my need to be buried within her, wanting nothing more than to feel her arms and legs wrapped around me.

I rolled Rose onto her back and braced my upper body above her, placing my thigh between her legs, watching for a sign of her own readiness, hoping for her acceptance of me as her mate. She tentatively placed her hands on my shoulders, sending tingles up and down me, but I kept myself as still as possible, letting her take her time to explore my body on her own. Her small hands moved in circular patterns upon my skin, nails scraping and eliciting goose bumps all over, making me harder. I couldn't hold still and flexed my hips, rubbing myself against Rose's hip and releasing a moan at how good it felt.

Her touch on my back stopped and quickly moved up my neck to the sides of my face, lifting my eyes to hers. She looked at me, as if it she was looking deep inside of me. If it were anyone else, I would have been terribly uncomfortable, but for her I would give anything, even my soul if she asked for it. She meant that much to me.

Her eyes softened in tenderness as her lips widened in a smile that I had never seen her give before, sending my heart into overdrive. She was a goddess in the flesh, and she had shown me her favor. My fears left, and my desire for her settled first in the center of my stomach, spreading through me, leaving only her name imprinted on every inch of my body.

"Emmett," she whispered my name, her smile lighting up every part of her face.

"Yes?" I answered, hope filling me.

"I'm glad it's you."

-O-O-O-O-O-

If you liked this piece, you can thank **HMonster** for stalking me being persistent about writing something for 30 Days of Em. I don't think she likes the word "no."

* * *

**And so ends the 30+ Days of Emmett. Nearly 70 authors participated with fantastic drabbles, outtakes and one shots, an overwhelming response to say the least! Huge, major thanks to those amazing authors and to everyone for reading and reviewing. It's been a blast and we loved seeing our favorite guy get some extra attention. :)**

**- Hmonster, AccioBourbon and TheHeartOfLife**


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